My Universities
by Seagullwing
Summary: Hermione's story about her final year at the University of Magic. Ordinary student life, lectures and parties; unrequited love; and a mysterious new professor... [A translation from Russian of Cait Sith's story. HG/SS, not epilogue compliant.]
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my superb beta, PensievePrince. I wouldn't be able to do it without you.

 **About story:** This story is a complete one, consists of 14 chapters and is one of my favourite HG/SS fanfics. Translation is still in progress, though I promise to finish it.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 1**

" _The worst way to miss someone is to have them sitting right next to you and know you can never have them."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

1st of September, Monday:

September that year turned out to be chilly. The very first day started with a nasty drizzle and I, while hurrying to the station, was forced to use an umbrella: there were Muggles around, and I could not resort to magic.

It had been a long time since I'd been as happy as I was to arrive at Platform 9 ¾ - there were no signs of rain here. The parents who had been seeing their children off to Hogwarts had already left, but there were still just as many wizards and witches as when I had been leaving for school from here myself. Only now these were students of one of the five currently existing magical universities – Stonehenge University of Magic Sciences – as well as their nearest and dearest.

I was alone: my friends, Harry, Ron, and Ginny, couldn't come to the station because they were resuming their Auror Training. Despite that, I was still trying to spot someone among dozens of faces, making my way through the crowd; constantly apologizing and getting apologies in return. And then finally, my face lit up with a gleeful smile. I waved my hand to attract her attention, as I was still too far away to call out to her. Thankfully, an elderly gentleman blocking the path between us stepped aside, and I was blessed with a fierce hug from my university friend Claudia Marinescu.

"How was your summer, 'Mione? Did you enjoy yourself? Why didn't you write more often? So much has happened, you wouldn't believe it! Did you see any of our folks?"

I was slightly taken aback by such hail of questions, so managed to reply only with:

"I did ask you not to call me "'Mione", didn't I?"

"Oh, still a nagger! And I was afraid that you would change over the summer and I wouldn't recognize you! Wait, your hair seems different… You cut it!"

"A little," I answered with a smile.

"It suits you! And I've already seen Dick – he's with Jason on the train. I was waiting for you here. Come on!"

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of the person I was dreaming about all summer. Richard Montague, or Dick, as his friends called him, was a good friend of mine. We met about a year ago, when Claudia started seeing Jason, the Quidditch team captain, and was simply obliged to come to all team matches. I often tagged along and, eventually, became acquainted with everyone on the team. Including Dick. A pure-blood wizard, he had the most sophisticated manners, subtle sense of humour, pleasant appearance and the most enchanting smile. I couldn't resist his charm, but it was not really my nature to flirt with guys – I wanted to be liked for who I was, without false pretence and coquetry. Besides, I was never good at it. As a result, my relationship with Dick had never progressed further than being friends, which greatly upset me.

On the train all the way to the university, we talked about the past summer. Claudia and Jason spent it together in Brazil, while Dick had travelled with his father to Romania on a scientific expedition.

"Father has been stressing out a lot because of his age, so I found it necessary to introduce him to vampires. When it turned out that the youngest one was one hundred and thirteen, he perked up noticeably," Dick said, smiling mockingly.

"Let's hope your father would never dream of trying _their_ way to retain his youthfulness," I joked.

"No-no, he is on a carbohydrate diet, protein is off-limits," Dick answered and I couldn't help a smile.

While the train took us west across Britain, I was thinking about my life. I liked the university. I was very fond of the many witches and wizards who studied and taught there: most of them were accomplished, intelligent, well-educated people. From time to time it felt like I had somehow been transported into the nineteenth century. Considering the old-fashioned style of wizarding attire as well, it was easy to imagine how one might get that impression. Of course, there were exceptions. Take Claudia for example. No matter how well we got along, it was impossible not to admit that she was noisy, talkative, flirtatious and somewhat spoiled. But at the same time, she easily won people over and was well-disposed towards everyone. I rarely heard my friend speak ill of anyone, at least not intentionally or other than in jest.

Also, I was captivated by the atmosphere of student life. I enjoyed this rush; this freedom; the desire to discover yourself, and to gain what I have always considered one of the greatest treasures in the world – knowledge.

"Oh, you still don't know!" Claudia suddenly exclaimed, tearing me away from my thoughts.

"It's theoretically possible, but since I try to avoid such situations, I'm all ears," I replied teasingly.

"Do you remember Professor Torrent?"

"It's hard to forget the man who drove us mad with his tediousness and obstinacy for a whole year."

"He resigned and now, instead of him, we will have a new lecturer on Poisons and Antidotes: Professor Veans," Claudia, delighted, squeezed my hands in hers. "I think it's brilliant news."

"Yes, that's great," I admitted, smiling. "But let's wait before we celebrate – we don't know yet what sort of man the new professor will turn out to be."

"Oooh, my dad met him. He said that he was "a pleasant young man, composed and sensible". Do you get it? Young man! Chances are, he could be cute."

"I have no idea why you care?" I replied, glancing at Jason, who was telling Dick something animatedly.

"What do you mean, "No idea"?!" Claudia's eyes burned in anticipation.

"If we take into account the fact that your boyfriend is sitting opposite me, my confusion is understandable."

"Oh, you're so uptight, where do you get it from?"

I sighed. How was I to know?

"Well, think about doing exams, for example," Claudia condescended to explain. "If he's young, you can smile flirtatiously at him a couple of times, – and a good mark is in your pocket."

"But it's not the marks, it's the knowledge that matters…"

"Jason, have you already chosen the new Keeper?" Claudia interrupted me pointedly.

She always did that if she thought I was nerding out too much. I'd even stopped taking offense at it.

"Yeah. Kenneth did such a great job last year so we'll take him to the university team."

"He's as dumb as a tree!" Claudia cried out.

"The Quidditch team is not selected according to intellectual ability," Dick noted.

"Then it's not surprising that the two of you got there," my friend mocked, and I exclaimed indignantly:

"Claudia!"

But Jason and Dick just smiled indulgently. It was impossible to get angry with her, even if she was completely obnoxious. I shook my head in disapproval and stared out of the window.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

We arrived at Stonehenge, the magical university campus, shortly before lunch, and accompanied by hundreds of students, immediately headed towards Merlin's Campus, the main site of the university.

I was very tense because there was an incredibly important ceremony awaiting me – this year I was appointed as the Lead.

When we, surrounded by a crowd of students, finally found ourselves in the inner courtyard of Merlin's Campus – a large building in the traditional English style which resembled a mighty rich lord's mansion – I walked up to the massive door and stopped in front of it. Soft music began to play.

Being the Lead was a great honour and my emotions started to overwhelm me; I was all worked up. Finally, two first-year girls brought me a velvet cushion, on which laid a carved wooden hammer. I carefully picked it up and knocked on the door three times. The noise resounded across the whole lawn – the hammer was enchanted.

"Who knocks on the doors of science?" a male voice rang out suddenly.

"I – a Wizard," I replied, and my voice was heard far around.

"What are you looking for?"

"Spiritual awakening through diligent work and hard labour, as I devote my life to Knowledge."

"Then welcome. And may everyone who pursues the same goals enter here also."

Huge doors flung open, and the professors, led by Rector Newman, appeared before the crowd of students.

"I hereby declare, the academic year has begun!" the rector said solemnly, and I took a deep breath and entered the castle.

The other students all followed after me.

The professors stood along the walls of the corridor down which we walked, greeting their students with smiles. Then my gaze met with the surprised look of unfamiliar green eyes, and for some reason I immediately understood – this is this new professor Veans. And he really was quite attractive.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

Once in the Uroborus Hall – a spacious room that served to hold various events, conferences, and receptions for important guests – the students sat down on wooden benches and stared at the small podium where Rector Newman stood now. As was tradition, he gave the opening speech, explained the rules to the freshmen, and wished graduates good luck with writing their diplomas. While I was intently pretending that I was listening, Claudia was trying to obtain the timetable from the head boy of our class, Julius Glauber, which she succeeded in right at the end of rector's speech.

Claudia and I bid farewell to Jason and Dick, who went off to the building for their college, and hurried to the Dining Hall, which was located directly opposite Merlin's Campus, just across a rather large lawn.

While I was choosing a side dish, Claudia was sharing the information she'd procured:

"Here's the schedule for today. Bibliography after lunch, and then Poisons," she made a vague sound, obviously expressing joy, and continued her report. "And here is the general schedule. Hurray, no classes on Saturday!"

"Great!" I agreed. "I can go home every Sunday and spend Saturday in the library."

Claudia folded her arms.

"No, Hermione, you can spend all Saturday morning in the library, 'cause we'll go to Quidditch at noon."

"Hmm… But when… I don't know…"

"Don't you want to go to the matches? You enjoyed it last year!"

"I'll think about it," I said uncertainly. "Now let's hurry, we don't have much time."

──────── • ✤ • ────────

After Bibliography, which Claudia dubbed as "the most perverted way to kill time", we headed to the small auditorium in the laboratory wing where lectures on Poisons were conducted.

"Merlin, I'm so on edge!" Claudia said, while we were walking along a lengthy half-empty corridor, where my friend's voice echoed unpleasantly. "I'm so eager to see him as soon as possible. Awww."

"Claudia, I beg you, please stop making these terrible noises."

"But don't you wonder what this Veans looks like?" Claudia demanded, grabbing my hand. "Doesn't your heart tremble with anticipation?" with these words, she pressed my hand to her chest. "Doesn't it sweetly falter at the thought that our new professor is a handsome young man?"

I winced at Claudia's familiarity which I never was comfortable with. To be frank, I didn't like to be touched. I didn't know how to explain it, but any contact that was not initiated by me gave me a sense of discomfort.

"Let's start with the fact that he is our teacher, and that rules out any possible thoughts of a relationship, other than a professional one," I said, releasing my hand from her grasp. "Therefore, it's probably preferable that our lecturers are either elderly, or women."

"Or ugly," Claudia concluded, "like Torrent."

"Or ugly," I agreed.

"But you're wrong," Claudia stopped at the window and turned me to face her. "Far too many professors found their other halves here at the university. Do you know how often teachers fell in love with their female students or assistants and started a relationship that on numerous occasions ended in marriage?"

"No idea."

"A hundred times! For example, my dad also met mum here. Truth be told, she wasn't a student, but a sister of one of the students, Aunt Rose, and was visiting here when Aunt Rose became seriously ill."

"This is a completely different case… and, moreover, I have already seen Professor Veans."

Claudia's eyes widened.

"No way! When did you manage that?"

"At the opening ceremony," I turned and walked down the corridor, expecting Claudia to follow me.

I was not disappointed.

"Really? But how did you know that it was him? And what does he look like?"

"I don't know for sure, maybe I was mistaken. It's just intuition. As for his looks, you'll see for yourself in a couple of minutes."

Claudia sighed as she entered the lecture hall and went up the stairs to the rearmost desks.

"Hermione Granger trusts her own intuition – yeah, and pigs might fly!"

"We're at the University of Magic – anything is possible here."

──────── • ✤ • ────────

Professor Veans entered the auditorium as the Old Tower's clock chimed – he was not even a second late.

Claudia sighed raptly along with a good number of female students. I just nodded in satisfaction — I was right. In front of me stood the very same blond green-eyed man I saw in Merlin's Campus. His watchful stare quickly passed over the students' faces, as if appraising us. Claudia, obviously wanting to somehow express her delight with the teacher's appearance, painfully nudged me with her elbow.

"Are you nuts?" I hissed.

"Sorry, I…"

"Is something wrong, Miss…?" Professor Veans suddenly turned to me, and I was surprised to have managed not to blush to the roots of my hair.

"Granger. Miss Granger," I replied firmly. "It's alright, sir, I'm sorry."

"Well, Miss Granger," Professor Veans drawled in a honeyed voice. "I hope it will remain that way."

I bashfully lowered my eyes – the teacher's gaze was too piercing for me to keep looking at him.

The next instant, the lecture hall door opened, and three students froze at the entrance.

"You wanted something, gentlemen?" Professor Veans inquired in a tone that might have been commenting on 'what wonderful weather we're having lately'.

"Uhh… we…" one of them hesitated, "we're here for the lecture, actually."

"Lecture began two minutes ago. If during the four years of study you haven't learned how to arrive for class on time, I have serious misgivings about whether it would be safe to allow you to work with poisons."

"Sorry, sir, it won't happen again," said one of the intruders.

"I have no doubt about that. As for now, you are dismissed."

"But…"

"You're disturbing your colleagues and me. Goodbye."

The trio shrugged and left the room, muttering something angrily.

"So, Poisons and Antidotes," the professor said, folding his arms and looking somewhere over our heads. "You have been studying them for a year, and you are probably sure that you know and can do a lot. But I promise that you do not possess even half the knowledge that a future healer or potion master should. The science of poisons does not allow inaccuracies, as it stands on the border between life and death. Therefore, I demand perfect discipline and diligence from you. I also demand a perfect knowledge of the material being taught, as there will be not only theoretical lessons but also practical ones. And I wouldn't want all of you to die from toxic fumes while working in the laboratory as a result of one of your colleagues' failures. The classification of poisons should be committed to your memory as firmly as your own name. Poisons Theory should be your bed-side book…"

"Merlin, he's gorgeous," Claudia whispered, looking at Professor Veans dreamily. "He just radiates strength!"

"Hush," I hissed to my friend, fascinated by the teacher's speech. "You're distracting me."

"Miss Granger, perhaps you are in need of help after all?" Professor Veans immediately approached me, as if he was waiting for me to make my presence felt again. "You seem somewhat… agitated."

"I… no, I'm really fine, sir. Sorry again."

Veans got back to reading the lecture, and I, giving Claudia my most reproachful look, began to write down his every word.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

After lectures we, like most of our class, went to the Chocolate Frog, a café located in the courtyard of our college, right next to the dormitories. There began a heated discussion of the past holidays, the new timetable, diplomas' theses and, of course, Professor Veans.

"Damn, why the hell did he kick us out of the class? We were two minutes late. Is it a university or a school?" one of the latecomers bristled. "Git!"

"I dare say, Terry, it seems that a bit of discipline won't hurt you," I said.

"Of course you would think _that_!" Terry answered, and everyone chuckled.

"No, you really are wrong about him, Terry, you know," Claudia supported me, and then added coquettishly. "He doesn't look like a git at all..."

"Sorry, I didn't have time to examine his face in those ten seconds that I was in the lecture hall," Terry replied angrily.

"Well, I did," Gina, his girlfriend, giggled and dreamily rolled her eyes.

"He seems to be a true professional," I declared authoritatively, not wanting to listen to conversations about our teacher's appearance. "I'd like to write the graduation work under his guidance. I just need to discuss this with Dean Pitch."

"A tiny obstacle on the way to our new sex symbol," Julius, the head boy of the class, sneered.

"I'm sure she won't insist that I keep writing under her…" I replied uncertainly.

"Nah, of course. She'll simply start methodically tormenting you because she perceives any transition from her to another professor as a betrayal and personal insult."

I gave Julius a dreary look.

"But I don't want to write about Potions Theory anymore. I want to try myself in something new."

"Tell it to Pitch."

They all nod in agreement.

"Come on, she has no right to interfere with your choice of topic," Claudia said, "so, switching to a more interesting subject, tell me: did you notice how hot Veans' bu…?"

"Claudia!"

"So you did!"

──────── • ✤ • ────────

2nd of September, Tuesday:

The first meeting of the Student Council, the body of student self-administration, was always held on the second day of classes and, as a rule, the Freshers' Day was to be the main topic of discussion. As custom has it, the post of Head for the Organization of Events was taken up by fifth-year students, and this year that post was entrusted to me.

Dick also attended the session as a representative of the Quidditch university team, so straight after the meeting, we went for a short walk together.

"I have no idea what theme to choose for a party. Looks like everything has already been used before," I complained while we were crossing the Professors' garden.

"I don't know if there has been anything like it already, but what about a theme of 'Antiquity'?" Dick suggested.

I looked at the young man in surprise.

"Great idea! Why didn't I come up with it myself? I don't think there's been anything like that before, at least over the last decade or so. You are just a genius!"

"I won't deny the obvious," Dick replied mockingly.

I smiled and once again thought how wonderful he was. We talked over possible costumes and music, as well as the design of the hall, and I didn't even notice how quickly the hour passed.

Suddenly Dick glanced at the clock on the Old Tower, which was visible from almost anywhere on the campus.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I have Quidditch training in ten minutes. I'm already late!" with these words, he ran in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, yelling as he disappeared, "See you!"

I watched his tall slim figure moving away from me, and the more blurred his silhouette got, the more wistful I became.

"Yeah, bye," I replied quietly in the end.

I felt so good with him, and so bad without him.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

6th of September, Saturday:

On Saturday, I got up unusually early, but I felt full of energy. The Quidditch match lay ahead, and I couldn't think about anything but that and the following meeting with Dick. Claudia, of course, was still asleep – she loved to lie in until noon whenever such an opportunity arose – and I was able to enjoy bathing without being accompanied with her constant whining. Lying in the bath, I read a book and listened to classical music, which put me in a good mood and complete harmony with myself. After drying my hair and putting on a black robe that barely differed from the student uniform, I went to breakfast in the Dining Hall. There were very few students and only one teacher. The majority of the students were still in bed; only those who had classes on this Saturday morning came for breakfast. And professors often preferred to have breakfast in a café next to the staff quarters.

For the umpteenth time, I regretted that students from only four colleges ate at the Dining Hall, and Triffany College, where Dick and Jason studied, wasn't among them. Triffany, like as the other four colleges, had its own Dining Hall, located not in a separate building, as ours was, but right next to the dormitories.

But I cheered up in a moment, remembering that I would see Dick soon. I wanted so much for time to go faster so that it would already be gone lunchtime, and Claudia and I would be on our way to the Quidditch pitch. And then we, after the match, together with the team from Triffany College, would go to the Bludger café next to the field and hang out there until the evening. My heart swooned at the mere thought of the upcoming meeting. Different images flashed through my head; I imagined where everybody would sit in the café, and if I would be lucky enough to end up with Dick next to me. I wouldn't try to get near him intentionally, because then he might guess my feelings for him and our friendship would come to an end. No, he only liked me as a friend, and he had to think that the feeling was mutual. I bit my lip, feeling melancholy seize my heart again, and tried to cheer myself up with the thought that I would still see him, and that we would still hang out together. And he treated me well, yes, very well. He had said time and again that he considered me the smartest witch in the world, and that I am just lucky that I am also a pretty one.

Sometimes I just wanted to bang my head on the nearest available hard surface, so many different thoughts and feelings did I have all at once. I looked completely calm, but inside me there was a bubbling volcano of roiling emotions present at all times, erupting more often than Kīlauea, and it drove me crazy.

After breakfast, I went to the university library situated on Merlin's Campus. I needed to prepare a report on the History of Potions, but a few of the required books were not in the college library. I stayed on Merlin's Campus until lunchtime, almost managing to take my mind off Dick, but as soon as I heard the clock chime on the Old Tower, announcing the beginning of lunch, I didn't even finish writing my sentence and rushed headlong out of the library. After meeting Claudia in the Dining Hall, I quickly bolted down my food, and we went to the dormitory for a change of clothes and to fetch some money.

"Hermione," Claudia said sternly, looking me up and down, "you're not going to go in that?"

I rolled my eyes. Every Saturday last year had begun with that phrase. It seemed nothing had changed.

"Claudia, I beg you, don't start," I prayed.

But my plea was in vain. Claudia gave me a long lecture about the fact that if I finally want to get a boyfriend, I needed to at least diversify my wardrobe and that I wore a uniform five days a week, so I needed to let my hair down a bit on weekends.

"Claudia, I like everything simple and austere. Not everyone is comfortable in a cloak that would give a peacock butterfly a run for its money, and a massive cable chain with an anchor hanging round your neck!"

"Put on a light beige one," Claudia concluded, ignoring my words and slipping on a bright blue robe that complimented the colour of her eyes.

I obeyed with a sigh. All in all, if I wanted Dick to fancy me even a little bit, I really should try to look more attractive. When I was ready to go, Claudia examined me from all sides and arrived at her verdict:

"You're such a cutey, why are you so afraid to show it?"

I shrugged.

"If you always looked like that, you would have a queue of suitors lined up."

"Mhm."

"It's so simple: put on something that isn't black, do your hair and apply eyeliner. And then you'd have not a super-intelligent nerd, but a pretty charming girl."

"Let's go already," I asked, feeling uneasy with the amount of compliments and even more numerous insults that Claudia tried to make me happy with.

The stands on the Quidditch pitch were only half-full, as it always was during matches between colleges. It was quite another matter at the inter-university cup: then, extra seats had to be installed. We walked to the Flamel's College's stands and, to our surprise, we saw Professor Veans near our favourite spot. Looking at each other somewhat puzzled, Claudia and I went to the free seats. I found myself next to the professor, and Claudia sat on my left.

The match had already begun, but nobody had scored yet. However, we were not very interested in the gameplay. It was much more entertaining to discuss the players instead.

"Aww, Jason looks so fantabulous on a broomstick!" Claudia said admiringly. "If it was up to me, he'd never get off it."

"It appears to me that the two of you think alike on that subject."

"And Dick isn't bad either," she pointed, "Mm?"

I shrugged. I didn't like the fact that Professor Veans sat right next to me and heard our chat, so I decided to be laconic.

"I heard the two of you went for a walk together the other day – is that true?" Claudia was not letting up, obviously determined to gossip.

I nodded reluctantly.

"Well? And?"

"And nothing. We just took a walk after the Student Council's meeting," I replied without emotion, although my tone betrayed some irritation.

"And how's it going between you… nothing happened?" my friend asked and looked at me meaningfully.

"No, Claudia," I replied, no longer trying to hide the discontent. "We're friends, as you know. What can possibly happen?"

"But you like him?"

"Does it really matter?"

I didn't want to talk about it, absolutely didn't. I was dismayed by the thought that someone would know about my feelings and that they were unrequited. But Claudia would not be Claudia if she had surrendered halfway.

"Just say it, do you like him or not?"

"What's the difference?" I inquired again. "The point is that he doesn't like me."

"How do you know?"

"You don't have to be the great Cassandra to get it."

"If he doesn't show you his feelings, it doesn't mean that they don't exist. He's just shy."

Hope crept into my heart for a brief moment but I immediately strangled it and answered Claudia more harshly than I would like.

"Don't look for something that isn't there."

Claudia was silent for the time being.

"Still, do you like him or not?" she asked after a while.

I sighed in exasperation.

"I thought that we were over this topic," I said through clenched teeth.

Claudia turned towards me and smiled. Patting my shoulder, she said:

"How can you keep everything to yourself, 'Mione? I would explode if I hid everything from everyone like that."

"You'd hardly dream of making us that happy," I replied grumpily. "And I did ask you not to call me by pet-names."

"Nagger," Claudia echoed, still smiling, and turned her attention to the field again.

For some time I also tried to follow the game, but I got bored soon and took out a shrunken tome from my pocket, which I immediately Engorged and began to read.

"Miss Granger," Professor Veans addressed me, and I slowly raised my head to look at the teacher in surprise, "do you seriously believe the Quidditch pitch to be the most convenient place to read?"

His lips were shut tightly, but his green eyes gleamed with laughter. I smiled against my will.

"I suppose reading is the most fascinating possible pastime on the Quidditch field," I responded.

"You think that it is anywhere and at any time," Claudia joined in the conversation.

Professor Veans chuckled, watching us closely.

"What are you reading this time?" my friend asked – not without sarcasm.

I picked up the book that was resting on my knees and showed her the cover so that Veans could see it too, if he was also interested in the answer to the question.

"Whaaaat?" Claudia drawled, wriggling to read the title. "Pre-waffle-what?"

"Pre-Raphaelites. It's a book on art," I explained.

Claudia raised her eyebrows in surprise. Looking at the pages, she exclaimed:

"It's full of pictures!"

"Amazing observation," I commented. "But, believe me, that's not its only virtue."

"How beautiful! Just awesome! Such a pity that they don't move."

With a sigh, I turned my gaze to the field. But soon Claudia started to shake me by the sleeve of my cloak.

"Look, look! This is amazing. She looks just like you!"

I peeked at the illustration. It was a picture of Lady Godiva by John Collier.

"It's hard to say. She's depicted in profile so she could look like anyone really."

Claudia shook her head vigorously.

"It's not just her face, but her character as well."

I looked at the reproduction again.

"What can you tell about her character from that? She's just sitting on a horse?"

"Merlin, you know so much, but you understand absolutely nothing!" my friend exclaimed. "Do you know the legend about this lady?"

I nodded.

"Only a truly stubborn and selfless woman would ride around the city naked to force her husband to cut taxes. And this is exactly what you could pull off protesting against injustice and in defence of the downtrodden. In addition, she's smart and cunning, since she had the sense to ask all the residents to close their shutters and not look out onto the street. But in this picture, it shows that, although she resorted to such a move, her determination is driven by despair, and she is not in fact a loose woman at all, but very modest and shy. It's all about you! Besides, you were in Gryffindor at Hogwarts, and there are golden lions on that red rag on the horse."

"Horse blanket. This "red rag" is called a horse blanket. And golden lions on a scarlet background are just a royal symbol, or a sign that one belongs to a noble family."

"Oh, I don't care what they symbolize. It's just all you, that's all. Oh, the match is over!"

Claudia slammed the book shut and handed it to me. I shrunk it, hid it in my pocket, and together we went to the locker room's exit to wait for the boys.

Finally, they flocked out onto the street, and in a tight-knit group we all went to the Bludger. Dick merely exchanged a greeting with me, and then all the way to the café he talked to the Seeker, Carl Gruber, so I silently paced beside Claudia.

The Bludger was a fairly large café, or rather a bar; all its walls were covered with posters of various Quidditch teams, decorated with various Quidditch symbols, and in the centre of the room stood a large glass cube in which about a hundred snitches flew. Trays with orders or empty dishes were constantly moving around the pub, soft upbeat music was playing, and it was crowded at all times. I had never happened to be in the Bludger when it was empty; rowdy groups were always chilling out here, and now I was part of one such noisy gathering myself.

We sat down at a large, round wooden table; the boys ordered Elf-ale, and Claudia and I, as the only girls, the usual cider with spices, for some reason called the Witch's Caprice here. I diligently pretended that I did not care that there were three people between me and Dick. Moreover, I mentally reprimanded myself for taking notice of it at all.

The whole evening Dick discussed the last match with the Seeker of their team, Gruber: who made what mistakes, what could have been done better at one moment or another, what changes occurred in the opposing team. I pretended to be absorbed in conversation with Claudia and Jason, deliberately trilled with laughter and was all charm and sunshine. But only twice did Dick address me personally with some funny comments about my story, and only once did I find a reason to comment on his remark. I was completely disappointed by this, and to make it worse, there had been Kenneth, who had tried to hit on me. He was now in the University team and considered it his duty to attend all matches, although he had only come to watch the game today and not play, as he was not from Triffany College, but Merlin's. His flirting was unobtrusive and rather inept, but it didn't take much to piss off an already-annoyed Hermione Granger. Finally, I got tired of sitting with these rowdy lads, pretending to enjoy their company. I got up, said that I needed to finish something for class, apologized and left.

Of course, everybody tried to persuade me to stay, out of sheer politeness, but actually, they didn't care. Well, maybe Kenneth would be glad if I stayed. The rest of the guys barely set eyes on me, Claudia finally could fully fixate on Jason, and Dick hardly even noticed that I had left the Bludger.

I wandered along the path, pitying myself and feeling completely neglected. I had a lump in my throat, and I tried not to cry in the street, in front of students and teachers passing by. I didn't remember how I reached the stone wall connecting the building of our college, where the classes were held, with the Chocolate Frog; how I muttered the password; how I entered the inner courtyard and found the right door. How climbed to the second floor; how I entered my room, and fell on the bed. But for almost half an hour I laid there, crying bitterly into the pillow, feeling sorry, constantly feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in my own loneliness.

However, the tears dried up, mostly due to the thought that Claudia would return soon and would certainly begin questioning me about why I was crying. Having washed and dressed in a cosy black robe, I sat down at the desk by the window and got down to writing a speech for a report on the History of Potions. Soon I regained a presence of mind and by the time my friend returned I was calm and composed.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

7th of September, Sunday:

The next day I went to "the city", as part of Stonehenge was called, where shops, restaurants, a theatre, a museum, a hotel, a hospital, a Floo Hall, and several apartment houses were located. I aimed for the Floo Hall, from where I could travel to Harry's house at 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry, Ron, and Ginny were already waiting for me there. At dinner, prepared by Ginny, we told each other how the first school week had gone, shared news and gossip, and just enjoyed each other's company.

I told them about the upcoming party and my difficulties with the choice of the theme.

"It could be done in the spirit of great wizards," Ginny suggested. "Well, Merlin, Morgana… They had very beautiful outfits."

I considered this idea. Actually, I liked it. Moreover, I liked it more than the idea of an Ancient Classical-themed party, but… I had already told Dick that I was fond of his suggestion, that I would choose it and that he was a genius.

"Thanks, Ginny, the idea is great. But I think I'll settle on the theme of Ancient Greece after all. Maybe next time we'll do something à la Merlin, but for now…"

The redhead nodded and turned to suggest which costume I could make for myself, but I was thinking about something else – when did I become a weak-willed creature that depended entirely on the opinions and thoughts of Richard Montague, also known as Dick?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my superb beta, PensievePrince. I wouldn't be able to do it without you.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 2**

" _Nobody deserves your tears, but whoever deserves them will not make you cry."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

8th of September, Monday:

Before lunch on Monday we had Herbology, for which we had to go to the greenhouses of Rosemary College. They were quite far away: it was necessary to go around Merlin's Campus; cross a small bridge over the Poisonous Canal that surrounded most of the university's grounds, with the exception of the Quidditch pitch, the Bludger, and the above-mentioned Rosemary College; and even pass through a rather large meadow.

Then, after the lunch, there was Bibliography, about which Claudia remarked the following:

"I'll only go to it once more, at the end of the semester, to get credit."

"How would you expect to get credit if you don't attend the lectures?" I asked while we were going to Poisons' auditorium.

"Just as in Potions Philosophy, for example. There are classes that are placed in our schedule only to occupy us with something for an hour and a half. I can handle it on my own and do something more exciting, or, at least, useful."

I shook my head.

"After all, there are people who pursue these sciences to be able to teach us. And you speak so disrespectfully of them."

"I'm grateful to Professor Boring for the fact that she compiles these lists of literature based on every parameter out there and I, thanks to this, know where to find information on love potions, and where on medical preparations. But I don't want to spend an hour and a half of my young life on this nonsense if I can just take this list from you for instance and not bother."

I had to agree with the logic of such reflections, although I couldn't accept them at all. But we have already entered the lecture hall that was half filled with students, and I suggested to end the dispute.

"I'd like to sit in the front, do you mind?" I asked.

"No, of course, I'd also love to..." Claudia began, but then we both saw that the entire first row, as well as the second and the third, was occupied by female students.

"I'd never noticed such zeal for Poisons before," I commented, climbing to the fourth row.

Usually, it was the other way round – it was difficult to find a free spot in the back rows while front ones were empty. But the teacher's pretty face seemed capable of introducing even the laziest students to science.

Veans entered the auditorium with the chime of the clock. Gazing at the students, he announced the topic of the lecture and began the narration. But his lecture wasn't like all the others. He constantly questioned the students, checking what we had already known, engaged us in the conversation; sometimes even disputed. At first, unaccustomed to the seminar type of the classes, everyone felt a bit stiff, but by the middle of the lecture, the most active students were happy to demonstrate their knowledge. I was among them. When I talked – maybe it only seemed to me – a faint smile was playing at Veans's lips.

"Thank you very much, Miss Granger," the professor said after yet another speech from me, "your knowledge is extraordinarily broad. Obviously, you have a gift for Potions. You have correctly chosen the field of magical science."

I looked down sheepishly. When Veans continued the lesson, Claudia quietly whispered to me:

"I have a feeling that our professor has eyes for you."

"Don't talk nonsense," I murmured. "He just praised me. So what?"

"Well, Julius's answer was as fine as yours, and this blonde from the third group was also good. But you were the only one Veans complimented."

I shrugged, although I silently agreed. When Veans praised me again, I realized that the professor was giving me tokens of attentions on purpose.

After the class, when we walked to the Dining Hall, I told Claudia that Professor Veans's behaviour seemed a bit artificial to me.

"He deliberately treated me differently from the rest. I don't understand why."

My friend just rolled her eyes.

"What is there to understand? He likes you, dummy."

"No. Impossible," I replied confidently.

He was too good to pay attention to someone like me. And what use could I have of his attention when all I dreamed about was a short conversation with Dick. A fleeting meeting. The mesmerizing look of his grey eyes.

In the evening I went to the library to continue working on the report. As early as on Wednesday I had to present an hour-long report about the development of experimental potion-making in Europe during the second half of the nineteenth century, but my speech so far could stretch out for half an hour at best. There was very limited information, and finding something other than the great discoveries of that time wasn't easy. In the library, I found a diary of Giovanni Battista Cardone, where he described all of his experiments in detail. But the notes were in Italian, and I, unfortunately, didn't speak a word of it. Of course, I used the translation spell, but it was far from perfect, and the text was barely readable.

When I returned to my room, Claudia announced that on Sunday she, Jason and Dick agreed to go to the cinema this Tuesday –a Muggle cinema was built in the city last year to the delight of all the students, and when there was a new movie, we were sure to go watch it. I was supposed to go, too, but my report wasn't ready, and there was still a lot of work to do. In addition, I needed to start preparing the Freshers' Day: make posters, tickets, make arrangements with the club…

But how could someone refuse to meet with a loved one just for the sake of all this? Naturally, I agreed to go to the movies.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

9th of September, Tuesday:

The next day I woke up very early again because the thought of the upcoming trip to the cinema wouldn't let me sleep. Deciding to put the morning hours to good use, I set to work on the report, and then made a list of things that needed to be done concerning the party dedicated to the Freshers' Day. After that, I wrote down a reminder in my notebook: "Think about the subject of the diploma paper. Approach Prof. Veans. Talk to Pitch about changing my supervisor."

Finally, the clock on the Old Tower was striking and Claudia got up.

At the breakfast in the Dining Hall, Julius, Terry and Gina sat down next to us.

"Well," Terry asked, "how's it going with the Freshers' Day?"

"Work in progress," I replied, adding yoghurt to the corn flakes.

"How much will the ticket cost this year?" Julius inquired.

"By my count, two galleons ten sickles."

"Why so expensive?!" Terry and Gina exclaimed in unison.

I sighed heavily. In their question, there was a hidden implication "why did YOU make the price so high?" But after all, it wasn't me who decided how much the rent of a club was; how much it would cost to make posters and tickets. I couldn't make up the excess from my own pocket! That is what I had to explain to my classmates.

"Look," I opened the notebook on the page with the calculations and started reading out loud all the upcoming expenses related to the celebration. "But the drinks' prices at the club will be very reasonable," I added.

"And what's that?" Julius muttered, peeking in my notebook. "Approach Veans… talk to Pitch..."

I covered the memos with my hand.

"I did tell you that I wanted to write a diploma in Poisons."

"Well, of course," Terry said sarcastically. "Especially now..."

"Poisons were of interest to me for a long time, I just didn't want to deal with Torrent. It's not the personality of Professor Veans, it's the fact that he is a true Potions master. That's all."

"Yeah, riiiiight," Terry drawled, and I looked at him sternly.

"McPherson, leave me alone," I demanded, and Terry, still grunting and humphing, returned to his breakfast.

Two lectures of Potions Theory by our dean made me decide to postpone the conversation about the diploma. Professor Pitch was definitely out of sorts and went nuts at anyone who risked saying even a word to her.

After lunch, there were Household Potions awaiting us, and I was finally able to distract myself from the thoughts about the upcoming trip to the cinema, which had been plaguing me ever since I'd awoken. Nothing helped me as much as brewing potions. All extraneous thoughts faded into the background and for me, there was only a recipe, ingredients, and a cauldron.

But the classes came to an end, and after a light dinner, Claudia and I hurried to the dormitories: we needed to get ready for the movies.

Remembering the last meeting with Dick, this time I wanted to look perfect so that even he couldn't help but admire me. Of course, I didn't say anything to Claudia about it, but, noticing my efforts, she guessed everything and helped a little.

When we were almost ready, there was some noise under our windows. We looked out and saw Dick and Jason on the pathway. Trying to get our attention, they shouted our names, whistled and whooped.

"Your password has changed," Jason shouted, seeing us sticking out of the window, "and we can't enter."

"We're coming down," Claudia replied. "Wait for us by the wall."

"Couldn't you just tell us the password?" Jason shouted. "As if I didn't know how you're coming down!"

"Yeah, sure! As if I would scream the password for the whole university to hear," Claudia responded and closed the shutters.

Fifteen minutes later, we actually descended to meet the disgruntled Jason and the amused Dick at the wall.

We exchanged greetings and headed to the path leading to the city. Dick talked to me all the time on the way to the cinema, and I was just happy. He was so interesting to talk to, he had an amazing sense of humour, and he knew everything in the world. It seemed to me that I had known him for many, many years, and it was just incomprehensible how he couldn't feel the bond that connected us every time that we were together.

Finally, we found ourselves in a movie theatre and the movie - which had only recently come out - started: "Love Actually". The film was entertaining, with a good cast and seemingly uncomplicated, but exciting and true-life storyline. I especially enjoyed watching the three most stunning men in Britain – Alan Rickman, Colin Firth, and Hugh Grant. I watched all of their films – my cousin Amy was crazy about them, and when I visited her a couple of years ago, she insisted that I watch all the movies from her video library. Later, I went to the store myself and bought a DVD collection with screen adaptations of Jane Austen's books. Ginny, who was extremely captivated with the very notion of the cinema, loved to rewatch them numerous times, and I often kept her company. Now Claudia had to join the club of admirers of the talent and male charm of these three actors. I was quite sure that she would be as fascinated by these representatives of the stronger sex as I was.

Sometime in the middle of the movie, Jason and Claudia started kissing, and I was glad that the hall was dark and no one could see my blush. I flushed, of course, not because I had never seen my friends kiss, just... they put Dick and me in an awkward position, and... However, Dick didn't seem to be embarrassed. It looked like nothing could unbalance him. Therefore, I tried to keep a straight face.

After the movie, we settled in a cosy cafe and discussed the film. I barely spoke though – mostly Dick and Claudia chatted, and Jason only commented from time to time.

I envied Claudia for how easy she could communicate with Dick. No, I didn't think that they liked each other in a romantic sense, but precisely because their relationship didn't involve anything more than just friendship, they felt relaxed.

I also tried to talk to him freely, but nothing worked for me. When I was saying something, I had the feeling that I was talking utter rubbish, and that everyone didn't tell me that just because no one wanted to offend me. I felt even more hurt when Dick began to tell some anecdote, but then he fell silent, glanced at me, and said:

"No, I'd rather not tell it in front of Hermione."

"Why?" Claudia asked.

"It's a bit vulgar," Dick admitted.

It wounded me, although I understood that it was stupid to be offended. What's so bad that you're considered a too accomplished person to tell dirty jokes in your society? Besides, I didn't love them indeed, because I never knew how to react correctly – whether to laugh, or to blush, or to pretend that I hadn't heard anything.

But I couldn't help but feel some kind of... separation from others. As if they were all linked by something that wasn't available to me. I wanted to be with everyone, and everyone didn't want to accept me. This feeling aggravated the sense of loneliness and upset me beyond measure.

After another fifteen minutes, I realized that my mood was irreversibly ruined; Dick wasn't paying attention to me again, and it would be better if I left. As soon as I announced my desire, Dick looked at his watch, jumped up and exclaimed:

"Damn, it's already ten! The Dean was waiting for me at nine to talk about my diploma! Damn-damn-damn!" Having blurted it out, he ran away from the café like a scalded cat.

"Let's go then, we'll walk you home," Jason said, but I rejected his offer.

"I'll be perfectly fine by myself. Plus, it's out of your way."

"Eh, really?" Jason wondered.

"I had some plans..." Claudia clarified and smiled meaningfully.

I wrapped a thin scarf around my neck and, having said goodbye to the pair, I left the café. The night air was fresh, but soft, and boded well for a little walk. Therefore, I decided to go to my college, not through the Cassiopeia College, along which the main road from the city passed, but past Triffany College, to which Dick ran so quickly, and through the Professors' garden. A thought flashed through my mind that Dick mightn't have had time to run far and would have a stroll with me, but I immediately shoved it away.

Walking through the underbrush of elder and honeysuckle, I admired the cloudless, starry sky and thought about my feelings. Numerous times I tried to control them with my mind, but they refused to obey. I told myself over and over that I wouldn't, not anymore, I wouldn't fret over Dick, I would stop thinking about him, dreaming... But my intentions crushed against his charm, time and time again. I just couldn't keep my behaviour in check when he was nearby, I couldn't force myself not to be such a fool and think more about my studies. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. And I'd never cried so much before. And now, thinking about my own loneliness; about the absence of a person nearby who would love me and to whom I could give my love; that the only person who felt like my soulmate and with whom I wanted to be, didn't perceive me as a girl, I felt cold tears running down my cheeks. At that moment it seemed to me that it was generally impossible for two people to feel mutual sympathy for each other. How could it be that the one you love, loved you? You, out of billions of other people? How was it even possible? That was the real miracle. A miracle inaccessible to me.

In such a lyrical and sorrowful mood, I turned onto one of the paths in the garden and saw Professor Veans walking towards me. At first, I felt a sudden urge to turn around or hide, to avoid meeting him, but then I thought that it was stupid, and continued on ahead boldly. I hoped that in the dark of the night he wouldn't see my tearful eyes. So we pulled level with each other and just as the professor discerned who had crossed his path, he exclaimed:

"Aha! Miss Granger! I was just looking for you," his voice seemed angry to me, but I answered:

"In this case, it was very optimistic of you to hope to find me here. You were just lucky, professor."

"But you aren't," Veans growled, and a startled cry almost escaped my lips.

"What's the matter, sir?" I asked in a serious tone.

"I heard rumours that you were "writing a diploma under my scientific supervision"," he said caustically.

"I didn't… I…"

"What right do you have to tell everyone that I will be your research advisor, while I haven't yet approved of it? Moreover, we didn't even talk this matter over!"

"But I…"

"And as a result, Professor Pitch summons me to herself with an accusatory speech that I allegedly stole her student! Imagine my surprise when she, in the most unflattering terms, told me about it."

"Sir, I didn't..." I tried again to justify myself and sobbed loudly.

The professor froze, and I pressed my palm to my mouth. I hoped that he hadn't heard, but the next moment he whispered "Lumos!" and brought the glowing wand to my face. I tried to hide it in my hands or turn away, but Veans didn't allow me to do so; gently but firmly turning me to face him.

"What's the matter?" he asked neutrally.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't expect to meet someone," I babbled.

"Why are you wail... crying?"

"I'm just feeling a bit blue, that's all..."

"Where have you just come from?"

I looked at the professor quizzically.

"I see. From Triffany College," he stated, not waiting for my answer.

"With all due respect, sir, that's of no concern to you," I replied, trying not to sound rude.

"True enough," Professor Veans answered after a long pause.

"Sir, I really would like to write my diploma under your guidance because I've been interested in poisons for a long time, but our previous wasn't... good... enough. And you clearly are a true professional in your field. But so far I've spoken of my wish only to my classmates. Apparently, one of them must have told Professor Pitch. I, of course, would have presented her my intention in a more delicate form; perhaps so delicate that she would decide that it was her own idea, and you wouldn't have had to end up in the situation in which you found yourself. I apologise for any trouble I've caused you, but could I just ask: how would you like to see me writing a diploma under your guidance?"

Veans was silent for a few seconds, keeping me in suspense, and then answered:

"All right. I will settle the issue with Pitch myself. Consultation schedule will be posted later. Goodnight."

With these words, he left, and I wandered to the dormitories.

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13th of September, Saturday:

The next Saturday was a real test for me; I had to decide whether to go watch Quidditch or spend the whole day in the library. In favour of the first was that I would see Dick again. In favour of the second was that Professor Eastland, after reviewing my report, said that it wasn't good enough, and I should work on it more (and this was one of the most humiliating moments in my life). In addition, on Sunday I was going to meet my parents and visit Grimmauld Place. Also an important deciding factor was that Dick didn't pay any attention to me, and each meeting with him was like exquisite torture.

Now I understood that the answer to the question "To go, or not to go?" was obvious, but back then I still doubted; still deliberated what to choose. Thankfully, I was wise enough and went to the library.

Moreover, I could be proud of myself, because for the whole day I barely thought about Dick and was completely captivated by my report.

Unfortunately, my joy couldn't last forever. In the evening, Claudia returned and told me – in detail and in colours – about how much fun they had; their lovely chats in the Bludger together; and what a pity that I hadn't been with them, because I would have enjoyed myself too.

I pretended that it didn't bother me at all, and said that I had made a lot of progress on my report. Basically, it was almost ready; only a few corrections were needed to be made.

"Oh, and by the way," Claudia interrupted me. "Veans was at the match again, and asked after you!"

"Is that so?" I replied without interest.

"Yeah. He squinted at me all the time; squinted and then he's like "And where is your friend – Miss Granger?" Disingenuously, you know. But obviously I figured that he was hoping to see you!"

"Yes, of course," I said sardonically.

"Oh, such a fine man is after you, and you simpleton…" Claudia sighed vexingly and began to throw clothes and cosmetics on the bed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Packing. Jason and I are going to his house for the weekend. Well, on Sunday, to be precise. His dad sent the Portkey, so we leave in about an hour."

When everything she needed was lying on the bed, she shovelled her belongings into a chest with a flick of her wand and shrunk it.

"A paragon of neatness," I grumbled.

"By the way, about neatness!" Claudia exclaimed and sat on her bed, obviously, preparing to speak for a long time. "Imagine, Dick today..."

And she began to tell some funny story about Dick, and my heart sank painfully. The mere mention of his name made me falter in excitement, and the thought that Claudia saw him today; spoke to him; watched him laugh, hurt.

"...can you believe what a dunderhead he is!" my friend ended in the meantime. "I have no clue where he's got an idea like that. Hey, why are you so gloomy?"

"Normal," I said, "just tired. It's been a long day."

"Oh, I understand. Dick also says that..."

"Will you give Dick a rest?!" I cried heatedly.

Claudia looked at me in surprise.

"Are there no other things we can talk about?" I added more calmly.

"'Mione, are you alright?" she asked.

No, I wasn't alright. And I was almost ready to tell her the truth. I was so tired from keeping all my inner turmoil, all my pain to myself, and at that moment I finally wanted to share it with someone. With someone who would understand and have compassion... But I was afraid to seem ridiculous; I was embarrassed by my feelings and simply couldn't open my soul. Moreover, Claudia, despite all her positive qualities, didn't always "get" me and very often, wanting to do something good, caused me only inconvenience and trouble.

"I'm fine," I replied. "Weren't you going to have a shower?"

Claudia immediately began to fuss.

"Oh, yes! Jason is coming any minute! Jeez…"

Jason indeed came in ten minutes, and sat down at Claudia's desk, waiting for her to finish bathing. I laid on the bed and read a book until he called to me:

"What are you reading?"

"On the Road to Perfection," I replied tersely.

"Interesting?"

"It's a book on psychology about people inclined to perfectionism. Psychologists believe that it's the same mental illness as various phobias, and leads people who suffer from this disease to be subject to stress and various disorders. In addition, perfectionism slows down the pace of work and reduces overall productivity, as a person devotes too much time and effort to details that do not always matter."

"Hmm…"

"I am, to some extent, also a perfectionist, and now I am trying to decide for myself whether I agree with the opinion of the therapists."

"Well, they're experts in their field," Jason said reasonably.

"Yes, but psychology is an area in which there's never one right answer. Do you know what creed Flamel's College has? "Aut bene, aut nihil" – either well or nothing. I don't see anything wrong in my being persistent, precise, scrupulous and - probably - pedantic. Maybe I work a little slower, but also precisely, thinking every step through. Yes, I strive for perfection in what I do, but doesn't it yield fruit?"

"It does, of course. But besides the good ones, there are also rotten ones."

I looked at the young man inquiringly.

"You don't know how to relax," he elaborated. "Always tense; always watching yourself; your behaviour, because otherwise, Merlin forbid, someone might think that you aren't perfect. But there are no perfect people, and we would like you even if you didn't know all the US states by heart. You think you should know everything, but you aren't an encyclopaedia. People, at least those who are observant, see you as an interesting girl; a bit sharp-tongued, but modest and kind in your own way."

I looked down sheepishly.

"Thank you, Jason," I replied softly.

"How lucky Claudia is to have you!" I thought.

"By the way, how is it going with Dick?" he asked, and it felt like I'd suddenly had cold water poured on me.

I immediately braced myself and replied icily:

"And how could it be going with him? How can two friends be going?"

"For the record, he enquired after you today."

I held my breath. I wanted to ask what exactly did he say, but I didn't want to show how interested I actually was.

"Said that he wished you came," Jason continued, and I was ready to jump for joy.

But outwardly I remained calm.

"Really? Claudia didn't say a word."

"Because she didn't hear; he told that to me."

"Well, fine," I responded and Claudia entered the room.

Soon she and Jason departed, and I was left alone. Smiling and purring a silly song under my breath, I went to bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

15th of September, Monday:

On Monday after Poisons, I lingered in the auditorium to speak with Professor Veans on the matter of my diploma. Mainly I was interested in whether he had dealt with Dean Pitch, and if it was safe for me to go to her lecture the next day or not.

But at first, Veans was occupied by three female students who, shamelessly flirting, asked him some stupid questions. Having banished them, he was about to talk to me, but here Professor Nušić, who conducted Potions Identification, came to the lecture hall. She started grilling Veans about some reporting and labs and I had to wait another ten minutes. When Nušić finally left, I took several timid steps towards Professor Veans, but he jerkily scooped up his stuff, looked out of the window at the clock on the Old Tower, and then flew out of the auditorium like a bat out of hell, calling out to me as he went, "Later, I've got no time".

I lowered my head in disappointment. Well, the meeting with Pitch on Tuesday promised to be a surprise.

Claudia had already gone for lunch, and I suddenly realized that I wasn't hungry at all. A square breakfast and restlessness were to blame. This happens when you drink a lot of strong coffee – the heart is pounding faster than usual; the pressure of energy comes from somewhere inside, and there's some vague feeling; whether anxiety or anticipation of something.

Not the best condition to visit the library in, but there was no choice. And then I met Dick while walking along the path from our Flamel's College to Merlin's Campus. Smiling at him, I tried to hide the elation that I felt.

He asked where I was heading to, and I replied that I was going to the library.

"No-no-no," he said adamantly. "If you spend too much time there, you'll turn into a book yourself. Look!" he suddenly exclaimed, touching the back of my head. "You already have some sharp corners! That's the first sign."

I laughed softly.

"Do I have an alternative?" I asked.

"Of course. I need help with memorising Vhutes's theory."

I shrugged and said that I wasn't familiar with it myself, but I would be happy to help, and we took a long walk around campus. To begin with, Dick recounted to me the theory of Vhutes, concerning the transfiguration of animals. Then the conversation smoothly turned to the topic of teachers. For both of us, Muggle Studies was taught by Professor Oliver, and our opinions on his teaching methodology severely differed. Dick, as a pureblood wizard, liked this formalistic approach, while I insisted that Professor Oliver couldn't reveal the essence of the Muggle world; its spirit.

After a long walk I didn't have time to go to the library, and therefore I immediately returned to the dormitories. When Claudia asked where I'd been, I almost lied and nearly said that I was engaged in a report. But then I decided to tell her the truth. As I expected, she began questioning, and her enthusiastic screams rang in my ears for a long time.

Eventually, she calmed down, but I couldn't sleep until three o'clock in the morning and read an amazingly boring book on philosophy. If it were not for my rule of "always finish reading a book once you've started", I would have abandoned it after the tenth page.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

16th of September, Tuesday:

When I came to Potions Theory, Pitch quite kindly greeted me, which made me realize that Veans did talk to her and the path to the diploma in Poisons was open. I was thrilled.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

17th of September, Wednesday:

On Wednesday, finally, my report was presented. I performed brilliantly, and Professor Eastland praised me, although having complained that I didn't do everything from the first attempt. In any case, I was pleased with myself. The professor promised that it was a possibility for me to deliver this report at the meeting of the university's Scientific Society, and this is a great honour and a big plus for my future career as a scientist.

Late in the afternoon, I received an owl from the owner of the Dancing Hippogriff, the club in which we were going to celebrate the Freshers' Day, with a message that he found my terms acceptable, and with an attached rental agreement on the night of September 22-23. I signed it and started looking for responsible students who could be entrusted with the creation of the poster. In the second year, I found two rather creatively gifted students, who promised to draw up a beautiful poster and a draft of tickets by Thursday evening, so that I would take all this to the editorial office in the city.

The same evening, Claudia and I went shopping to buy outfits for the upcoming party.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my superb beta, PensievePrince. I wouldn't be able to do it without you.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 3**

" _Never stop smiling not even when you're sad, someone might fall in love with your smile."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

19th of September, Friday:

My birthday arrived, but the celebratory mood never caught up with me. Perhaps the reason was that I didn't receive a single congratulation. But I wasn't upset. On the contrary, I could concentrate on my studies. Even better, we discussed a very interesting topic on Potions Identification, and I volunteered to prepare a small presentation for the next lecture. Professor Nušić was very pleased with this idea and even gave me a list of references that might be helpful to me.

Anatomy, however, wasn't as interesting. Professor Spaziani herself was a Muggle, and for some reason she considered all wizards to be dim-witted creatures with a low IQ. Due to this, she spoon-fed every topic in such a way that I sometimes wanted to leap out of the auditorium or start tearing my hair out. Even Claudia admitted that the young Italian had too low an opinion of wizardkind since she considered it necessary to explain in _such_ a basic manner.

In the evening I went to the library in order to tackle the presentation on Identification as soon as possible. It was there that I was overtaken by thoughts about the fact that everyone had forgotten about my birthday. Even Harry, Ron, and Ginny didn't congratulate me; my parents were the only ones to send an owl, promising that they would give me a present when I arrived at the weekend. Of course, it wasn't very important. Moreover, I myself didn't remind anyone, didn't invite everyone to a café or restaurant, as many did, and in general pretended that nothing was happening. But somewhere in the depths of me, sat a little girl who wept bitterly.

When I was returning from the library to the dormitories, it started to drizzle, and my mood soured completely. I couldn't even be bothered to cast a spell that would protect me from the damp. When I reached the stone wall, I whispered the password, and an opening appeared in front of me. I entered the inner courtyard. It was surprisingly quiet and somehow dark; not a single lantern burned. I shivered from the chill. Although the patio was protected from the rain by a magical screen, it didn't get any warmer, and wet clothes only added to the uncomfortable sensation.

Suddenly, all the lamps flared up with a blazing light, and a burst of shouts of "Surprise!" made me freeze in a defensive position with my wand drawn, which I'd managed to withdraw from my sleeve in the blink of an eye.

Slowly coming to my senses, I looked around the now brightly-lit courtyard. There were two tables laden with drinks and snacks, and my friends and course mates gathered in the centre. They all laughed and congratulated me, and I almost burst into tears of emotion. Everyone was coming to me, giving me presents, hugging me, and I didn't even mind this physical contact. Not only the guys from Triffany College, who played in the Quidditch team, came to greet me a happy birthday, but also – oh, the most wonderful gift – Harry, Ron, and Ginny. I was so glad to see them that I made a beeline and squeezed them tightly.

"Idiots," I told them, "how could you mess with me like that?"

And they laughed and clapped me on the shoulder, saying something loudly, trying to outshout everyone around and each other. Claudia was also trying to tell me something, and I kept nodding, as if in understanding, but truth be told I was so dizzy with joy, that I could only smile foolishly.

Until late at night, everyone chatted, ate, drank and even danced. At first, I was the life and soul of the party, but gradually my emotions calmed down, and I tried to spot Dick. He stood to one side, talking to one of the girls from the junior course. I immediately looked away, but this scene left a bad taste in my mouth. I tried to fake the fun for a while, so as not to upset my friends, but at some point, I realized that I needed a little break. As soon as the right moment came, I slipped out of the courtyard and found myself on the lawn in front of the Dining Hall. I wandered there for about five minutes until I suddenly came across Professor Veans.

"Miss Granger, what is this strange addiction to the night walks you have?" he inquired, stopping in his tracks.

"You too seem to be somewhat of a night-owl, sir," I joked back, and smiled with the corners of my lips.

"I was on my way from the library," For some reason, he decided to elaborate on his movements.

"I see…"

We stood in silence for a while. It would be impolite of me to end the conversation first, and Professor Veans appeared to be in no hurry to say goodbye to me.

"You are in high spirits today," he finally noticed, too hastily, as if he was glad to find something to say.

I smiled again, a little wider this time.

"Yes, sir. It's my birthday and my friends gave me a surprise."

"And what was it?" he asked. "They locked you out of the dormitory?"

I laughed.

"No, sir. I just got tired of the noisy company and went out to have a breath of fresh air. I'm not… not a very... socially active person and a long interaction with a lot of people wears me down."

The professor looked at me with interest.

"I understand you perfectly. I suffer the same weakness myself."

My eyebrows flew up.

"You don't strike me as an antisocial person at all, sir."

"I constantly have to suppress that part of my nature," he responded almost seriously.

"Oh, then I won't torture you anymore!"

The professor frowned, displeased at how I took his words and tried to backpedal:

"I didn't…"

But then Dick stepped onto the lawn.

"Hermione! Where have you been? Oh sir, good evening. I didn't notice you."

My heart fluttered happily. I forgot about Professor Veans instantly and turned to Dick instead.

"I'm coming already, I just went for a brief walk."

"Brief walk, sure," Dick scolded me jokingly. "And who's going to blow out the candles on the cake for you? I'd love to, but they say the wish won't come true if the cake isn't yours."

I smiled.

"Then let's make haste, I'll use my privilege. Especially since I already have a wish at the ready."

I bade farewell to Professor Veans, and together with Dick hurried back to the courtyard. There a big cake with twenty-three candles was waiting for me. Bending over it, I made the silliest, but the most sincere wish: "I wish for mutual love!"

Later, before leaving, Dick reminded me that the Quidditch match would be on Saturday as usual, and he hoped that I would come. I replied that I would be there, of course.

My soul was singing. It seems that my wish has already begun to come true.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

20th of September, Saturday:

On Saturday I went with Claudia to the Quidditch match, as promised. Professor Veans was already there. I sat right next to him and, a few minutes later, decided to break the silence.

"Do you like Quidditch that much, Professor?" I asked, turning to him, and only then I noticed that he wasn't looking at the field, but somewhere up, a thoughtful expression on his face, his eyes unfocused.

But, hearing that he was being spoken to, he immediately recollected himself and looked at me intently.

"Pardon me?"

"I said, do you like Quidditch very much? You attend all the games."

After a pause, he replied somewhat harshly:

"I have my own agenda here."

His answer intrigued me, but I thought it was indecent to demand which one exactly. But after a pause, taking a deep breath, Veans asked in a very kind tone:

"You're not a big sports fan either, are you?"

"No, why... I've been coming to matches since my school years. My best friends are very fond of Quidditch, well, like all the boys are. And here, many of my friends are on Triffany College team..."

"Certainly," the professor commented, now clearly making fun of me.

I parted my lips indignantly.

"But it's true, sir," I said firmly. "Why else would I go here? It's much more interesting, what brings you to these stands?"

The professor sat down more comfortably, so that he could see both the field and me, and replied nonchalantly:

"The same thing as you."

I looked at him sternly for a few seconds, and then I realized that he was joking with me, and chuckled.

"Really?"

"Yes. Trust me. There is no greater pleasure than to observe..."

I expected him to continue, but nothing followed.

"Observe what, sir?"

"Just 'observe'."

I looked closely at the young man next to me. The longer we were acquainted, the more mysterious he seemed to me. First and foremost, he was sinfully handsome, but at the same time, his behaviour didn't correspond to his appearance. The likes of him were never deprived of female company, but Professor Veans looked to be surprised every time he drew attention. In addition to that, it didn't feel like he was aware of his own attractiveness. Rather, on the contrary, he always tried to close up, to shut himself off... always, not only with me. It seemed that while speaking with me, he really, as he once put it, suppressed himself, trying to be nice and courteous. And it didn't seem to be some kind of flirting. Rather, a demonstration.

It seemed that he had the gift of the gab, he was a good talker, and always knew where his speech would lead the next minute. It was as if a monologue plan had been formed in his head in the blink of an eye, and he followed this plan, methodically and meticulously, sowing seeds at the beginning of the speech, which by the end of it ripened "right in front of the listener's eyes", and the professor collected the fruits in triumph. If he was engaged in a dialogue, it felt like he always knew what to expect from his partner. Sometimes Veans gave an answer even before the other party could ask a question.

But although he had all these qualities, he didn't seem to be sociable at all. He often was harsh and sarcastic, just like me, and I saw this as not a bad temper, but an inability to communicate with people and show one's true feelings and emotions.

But is it possible to get such verbal skills without talking? Professor Veans was a mystery man, and I really wanted to solve this mystery. Because I loved riddles in general.

"Have you ever taught anywhere else before, Professor?" I asked at around the fortieth minute of the match.

Veans looked at me questioningly.

"What gives you an idea like that, Miss Granger?"

"It feels like you have a lot of experience in public presentations: you know how to grab the attention and maintain perfect discipline in the audience. Your speech is well-practiced, it is immediately obvious that you often had to speak for a long time. Well, and finally, you have some vibe of a... teacher."

The professor's fair eyebrows flew up.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he inquired.

"I don't know how to explain it. When you talk to students, you instantly comport yourself in a certain way. Without the arrogance of the scientists, who often look down upon students, but you don't try to ingratiate yourself either. You keep a certain distance, but at the same time, it seems as if you are our guardian. You remind me of a schoolteacher," I gave him my verdict.

"Curiously enough, that sounds quite logical, but it appears to me that your conclusions are based more on what your intuition says and not your mind," Professor Veans pointed.

"Maybe. That is why I asked you if you had taught before. If my judgment had been based on the arguments of reason, I wouldn't have any doubts about its correctness."

He chuckled.

"Such self-confidence."

"I would prefer to call it confidence in myself."

"Everyone prefers to think that, Miss Granger. Only in many cases, such self-assessment doesn't coincide with the truth."

It was my turn to fake a smile of sorts.

"Touché," I replied and turned my gaze to the field.

The match lasted more than two hours. Veans left in the eighty-fifth minute, when "our team" scored another goal, but I was obligated to remain in the stands, thoroughly cold and hungry. Repeatedly casting the Warming Charm, I discontentedly squinted at Claudia, who seemed to be in pure delight from watching the game.

Then Kenneth joined us. I grimaced with displeasure, but he didn't notice this and began to flirt with me.

From the very beginning of our acquaintance, I tried to understand what he found so appealing in me. No, I'd never been a downtrodden girl with a very low self-esteem. I knew my worth and I perceived that there were people who enjoyed my company. But Kenneth... I thought he was supposed to like the other girls. Striking blondes with coral lips, sultry brunettes with fire in their eyes. Of course, most of them would reject him, since, although being of rather handsome appearance, he left an unpleasant impression after the first conversation: as if you had been smeared with something sticky and syrupy sweet. I imagined his girlfriend as a beautiful bimbo: obsessed with her own appearance, capricious and prone to squabbles and scandals. Brainless and dull. In a sadder scenario, a very modest quiet girl who wasn't used to male attention might fall under his "spell" — someone a bit naive and silly, and completely lacking confidence. He would constantly cheat on her, and she would forgive him, probably, out of sincere love.

In any case, even if my heart was free, I wouldn't have spent even a second of my time on Kenneth.

"I love potions, too," he declared to me after a few minutes of idle talk.

I didn't answer.

"Although we don't have them in Merlin's College, because spells take so much of our time. You know, many sorts of different courses about spells."

I nodded, not taking my eyes off Dick, who was flying his broom around the field. Kenneth moved a little closer to me, his shoulder now pressed against me, and I flinched uncomfortably, trying to keep away.

"And you know, some spells are very interesting," he said in, what he probably thought was, an alluring voice.

I involuntarily twisted my lips.

"I'm NOT interested," I replied. "And could you stop leaning against me? I don't like it."

He grunted and slightly moved away.

"And what are you interested in? Let's talk about something interesting to you. Oh, right. Potions. While I was living in India, my father and I often prepared all sorts of potions and I know a lot about them."

"Congratulations. Such a valuable experience is one-of-a-kind. And I love poisons in particular," I said malevolently, "they are so exciting. For example, there is the Blue Rose poison, which cannot be detected. The person who drinks it dies in about half an hour and all the signs point to a heart attack. And no magic will reveal poison in the system. And most importantly, it has neither taste nor smell. In the Middle Ages, girls often got rid of annoying admirers in this way."

I stared at the young man, who, it seemed, still hadn't fully grasped the meaning of my words.

"I always carry it around in the powder form in this ring," I extended my hand, on which a small silver ring with a twisted ornament shone.

Now Kenneth seemed frightened and I smiled smugly and turned back to the field.

If he knew the least thing about Potions, he would have pointed out right away that it was totally unwise to carry a poison in a silver ring, since that metal actively interacted with all substances. If he knew a lot about Potions, he would have told me that actually the Blue Rose gives the liquid a bluish tint and has a pronounced floral scent. And finally, that it doesn't exist in powder form.

Claudia, who had heard our conversation and was well-versed in Potions enough to realize that I was bluffing, laughed, immediately trying to hide it by coughing.

Finally, the match was over. We met the guys at the changing rooms and headed towards the Bludger. Jason distracted me from the start, he wanted to know if I had read anything about the transfiguration of potions. Last year he was engaged in the transfiguration of liquids, and for the diploma, he decided to try something more complicated. I got carried away reciting the only work on this topic that I happened to have read, and spoke for several minutes without pause, not noticing anything else around me. Kenneth tried to look smart and listened to everything I told Jason, sometimes making totally inappropriate comments. This continued until Jason told him to shut up.

When I'd told him everything I knew, I looked around for Dick, but he was nowhere to be found. The whole team was here except for him. I immediately decided not to ask where he was and hoped that Claudia would ask about him instead. Fortunately she did.

"His father arrived this morning," Jason replied to her. "He wants Dick to go with him on an expedition next month, and so he needed to talk to our Dean. But Dick doesn't want to go anywhere, and he went to try and manipulate his father."

"Is he going to join us later in the Bludger?" Claudia asked, to which Jason just shrugged.

I was very upset but tried not to show it. Kenneth, obviously having worked up the courage, began to question me about the transfiguration of potions, although he understood neither. I tried to overwhelm him with a huge amount of information and difficult words, and upon arriving at the cafe he said, settling next to me:

"I've never met any girls like you. Hermione, you're just amazing."

I replied coldly with unusual smugness:

"I know."

Jason, who had been observing our communication with Kenneth for a long time, addressed the young man:

"Kenneth, give it up. She's too smart for you."

Kenneth looked at him sulkily. Few dared to argue with Jason, because, first of all, he was the oldest in his social circle. He enrolled at the university not right after graduating from Hogwarts, but five years later, having realised that school education wasn't enough for him to reach the heights he wanted. For those five years, he was professionally engaged in Quidditch, but he got cold feet after watching how the veterans of the magical sport, who quit the game due to either medical grounds or other reasons, were not able to find a decent job. Veterans became useless, and even the brightest stars were forgotten quickly, replaced by new, young and talented ones. Jason didn't want such a fate, so he had quit Quidditch and got into the university. And it was no wonder that he immediately began to play for the Quidditch university team, and became its captain in his third year. And this was the second reason why he held a certain authority over all the guys.

Kenneth's position on the all-college team was all the more precarious since he hadn't played a single game yet and didn't show himself off. He did play on the team of his Merlin's College, and successfully so far. But he was yet to play for the university team. Kenneth couldn't risk his place on the all-college team and therefore treated Jason with a respect verging on servility.

"And you would achieve nothing by the way you behave now," Jason told Kenneth blatantly, even though I was sitting right there and heard everything. "You won't impress her with your intellect 'cause, sorry, you have none. It's useless to compete with Hermione in knowledge as you are no match for her. And one more thing, she's a very cultured person, and vulgarities have an annoying effect on her rather than positive... And she doesn't like to be fondled," he added after, causing Kenneth to withdraw his hand from my shoulder, which I'd been fruitlessly trying to remove for a while.

Kenneth definitely felt uncomfortable, not knowing what to reply. I looked at Jason with a faint smile. It was amazing how he could read people like a book. Or was it that I was so open?

After spending some time at the café, I said that I needed to deal with the upcoming Freshers' Day and left with the great relief.

I stopped on the bridge over the Poisonous Canal and looked at the dark water, which reflected the heavy sky. It was going to rain soon, but I held off on leaving.

I felt deceived. I was expecting to meet Dick, but by absolutely absurd coincidence, I wasn't able to. It just wasn't fair.

I tried to calm down, bring thoughts and feelings into balance, and the quietly murmuring water and the gloomy peace around helped me a little.

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22nd of September, Monday:

On Monday, I tried again to talk to Professor Veans about the diploma. This time, no one else demanded his attention, and we discussed possible options for about fifteen minutes. We agreed that I should choose to study a group of poisons and examine the changes occurring in them under various influences – heating, cooling, drying, and so on. I liked this topic, and right after lunch, I went to the library to decide which poisons would be of interest to me. I wanted to choose something little-known, so that there was room for exploration.

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22-23rd of September:

On the night from Monday to Tuesday, a long-awaited event finally took place – Freshers' Day. I chose to portray Athena, the ancient Greek goddess of wisdom. Even though I gave up the helmet, I attended to her other attributes: a spear, a picture of Medusa – not on the aegis, but on a large pendant around my neck – and on my shoulder sat a little owl Soteira, which I borrowed from Gina.

I was the one to start the feast, so when most of the students had already gathered at the club, I went onstage. With a short speech, I announced the beginning of the celebration. Dance music started to play, and bit by bit the students began to fill the dance floor. I walked over to the couch where Claudia, Jason, and Dick were sitting. We started chatting about something, trying to shout down the music, and I was able to truly relax.

A little later, I took the stage once more to announce the first competition – a costume contest. Despite the fact that many came in Ancient Classical-themed outfits, quite a few fellows decided not to stand out and put on casual robes. One or more just added some accessories with a meander pattern or something else reminiscent of ancient Greece and Rome. I saw a few boys wearing gilded laurel wreaths. Dressed in modern but white robes, they did resemble Roman emperors. And the first place was taken by Terry McPherson, who came in the costume of a Roman soldier – armoured, in a helmet and with a spear.

After I returned to my seat, I found that Dick had gone somewhere. Claudia, who was dressed as Aphrodite, with her hair loose and gold threads ending with hearts woven into them, pointed towards the bar. At first, I didn't see anything due to a group of Pythagoreans, but then they parted, and an unpleasant scene was revealed to me: Dick was talking to some girl in a beautiful airy dress. The music was too loud, so he leaned closer to her ear, telling her something, and she replied from time to time, smiling and touching his hand.

I took a gulp of Elf-ale and turned away from the couple. Claudia immediately began to scream in my ear her thoughts about Dick's companion:

"Merlin, how does he mix with her? That Tallulah, she's as dumb as they come. You know, they hung out together the whole night on that Potioneer Day in spring too."

I looked inquiringly at my friend.

"Really?"

Of course, I remembered that he spent the whole party in the company of some buddies from our college here and some girl there. Even then I was already yearning for his attention, and thus I faked high spirits with all my will. But I didn't remember who the girl was because while having a wonderful memory for names, words, events, and dates, I forgot people's faces very easily.

"Well, yes," Claudia answered me, trying to shout over the music. "I told you about her back then. She's studying with them at Triffany. In her second year now. Don't you remember that?"

I shook my head. If I remembered all the stories that Claudia told me, there would simply be no place in my head for potions. Gossip was the second thing that I have always had a surprisingly bad memory for. This is because I intentionally tried to get everything useless out of my head. I wasn't interested in knowing something about complete strangers, even if it was something, according to Claudia, mind-blowing.

Soon the Elf-ale made me dizzy, I felt a strange lightness, and my peripheral vision almost disappeared, focusing only on what was right before my eyes. But it didn't keep me from ordering another glass. I wanted to forget about Dick, about my inner turmoil, and finally, relax.

But when the old, long-forgotten melody began to play, I felt a pinch in my nose and an unpleasant lump in my throat. Self-pity rolled in a wave, and I was on the verge of crying. At this moment, Marie, our classmate, approached our table, and Claudia decided to take this opportunity to go dancing with Jason. She denied herself this pleasure before, because I didn't want to dance, and she considered it improper to leave me alone.

I liked Marie. She had beautiful hair – dark blond, very smooth and shiny. It looked so natural and attractive that sometimes I wanted to touch it to make sure that it was just as silky as it seemed to be. I liked her face – so cute, but not cheesy. A pointed nose, thin rose-pink lips with no lipstick ever, fair skin and large grey-green eyes. I couldn't call her a classical beauty, but if I were asked to name the best-looking girl of all my acquaintances, I would choose her. I liked her temper, her sense of humour, her demeanour – everything. I liked the fact that she didn't realise herself how attractive she was. I even liked when she started complaining about something and give attitude – at such moments she seemed to me to be just like everyone else and better at the same time. Finally, I was perfectly happy that she liked me. She never said so directly, but I felt it. For some reason, we didn't hang out together often enough, but those moments when we had a chance to talk felt like rain in the desert.

For a long time I tried to understand why I liked her so much and at some point, I realized that Marie was similar to me in many ways, only better and more interesting. I figured out that I saw in her the best version of myself, just as in Professor Boring, the blue stocking, I saw the worst version of myself.

Having realized this, however, I didn't change my attitude towards Marie and enjoyed every conversation with her. When she walked over and sat down with me, I immediately cheered up, forgetting my melancholy.

She told me about her favourite TV show, which was broadcast in Denmark, her homeland, and this was so pleasantly detached from my daily life! Like a breath of fresh air.

After a while, Dick came back to us. I forced myself to ignore him and continued to chat with Marie. But she herself soon decided to return to her friends, with whom she sat at another table, and Dick sat closer to me. At first, we were silent. Then he reached out for his glass, and I jokingly slapped his hand, saying that there is no need to get drunk and no one would carry him back to the college, because Jason and Claudia would surely leave long before the end of the party. Dick tried to contrive and still snatch the glass, but I blocked him again. We fooled around like that for a while. There was a solid metal bracelet on my wrist, and sometimes when Dick grabbed my hand, he accidentally pressed the bracelet down, hurting me, but I just shrugged it off. The only thing that I thought about was how he was much stronger than me, how his arms were much bigger than mine, and his fingers – longer. At that moment, I was fully aware of his physical superiority, and it was a pleasant feeling. I wanted to be the weak one at last.

Later we found ourselves on the dance floor. I didn't even notice how it happened. Alcohol affected me, and I got bolder and more open. We danced fierily, feeling free to make physical contact and move shamelessly. My hair stuck to my face and I was hot and thirsty, but I didn't want to leave the dance floor. However, we were forced to take a break as my colleague from the Student Council announced a new contest. Someone went on stage, did something and got some prizes – I didn't hear or see anything except for Dick.

Claudia and Jason, as I thought, had left about two in the morning, so Dick and I were left alone and went dancing again. Soon I noticed that Professor Veans had entered the hall. I was quite surprised by this fact. After a little while, our eyes met, and I smiled broadly. He raised his eyebrows, either questioningly or in astonishment. Of course, he could hardly have expected to see me dancing, without hesitation moving all parts of my body, looking invitingly at Dick, who also didn't take his eyes off me. As I danced, I noticed several times that Veans was watching me, and almost decided to approach him and ask if something was wrong. Or perhaps he came here because he needed to talk to me on some urgent matter. But having decided that since he didn't approach me, he wasn't needing to tell me anything important, I continued to dance.

Professor Veans left after a while, and for some reason, I felt guilty. Although there was absolutely no reason why I should. Finally leaving Dick, I went to the bar. This move was somewhat intentional – I didn't want it to look as if my life and my mood depended on Dick. That I was perfectly fine to be the first one to finish a conversation or a dance. I just was very afraid to seem obtrusive.

Soon he was joined by Tallulah. I decided to order another Elf-ale for myself when suddenly Kenneth was there and immediately volunteered to treat me. I didn't object. I was relaxed, my mind was as if in a fog, and the world was swaying a little. The only thing I thought about while accepting Kenneth's offer, was that I'd save a bit of money, and if I had to ruin my health with alcohol, I'd be better off doing it at someone else's expense.

After some time – how long exactly I couldn't say, because everything seemed surreal, as well as the flow of time – I found myself sitting at the bar counter, talking with Kenneth about something. His hand was on my knee, and I didn't mind. But then Dick returned. He took my hand just below the elbow and pulled me somewhere. Kenneth began to say something indignantly, but Dick's answer made him calm down.

Collecting my cloak from the coatroom, I put it on and went to the mirror. At first, I tried to fasten all the buttons, but it was too damn hard. Then I just wound a scarf around my neck and looked at my reflection. My appearance left much to be desired. Especially the eyes – reddened, with mascara scattered on the cheeks and unhealthily shiny. Dick approached me, already dressed in a robe, his eyes no more sober than mine, and we went out into the street. The cold air immediately brought me to my senses a bit, but not enough for me to remember what we were talking about on our way to Flamel's College. Only a pleasant feeling lingered, although I'm sure that I spoke utter nonsense.

When we found ourselves at the stone wall that led to the courtyard of my college, all I could think about was a bed with a soft pillow and a warm blanket. My cloak wasn't warm enough for the autumn nights, and the attempt to cast a warming spell almost led to a serious burn. And now I wished to be in my own room. But first I had to go through the moment of farewell. If I had been sober, it would have seemed embarrassing, but then I just said "bye" and, having admired Dick's retreating back, hurried to the dormitories.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

27th of September, Saturday:

On Saturday, I couldn't make it to the match, because there were going to be practicals on Poisons on Monday. To forgo preparation for it wouldn't be just wrong, but downright dangerous. Even Claudia decided to spend Saturday with her head buried in parchment for the recipe of a potion that we were supposed to brew, and a detailed description of the process of its preparation.

In addition, on Sunday I was going to visit my parents and Harry, Ron, and Ginny, as always, and therefore on Saturday, I had to be especially productive. I didn't manage to be so during the week at all, because on Tuesday after the party I wasn't in the best shape, and then I was preparing a report due on Friday for Professor Nušić for Potions Identification.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

28th of September, Monday:

As I expected, working in the laboratory under the guidance of Professor Veans proved to be tough, but interesting. Terry McPherson was kicked out from the practical because it turned out that he didn't memorize the potion's composition, and Judith Pučinskaitė, who always seemed to me a very empty-headed girl, didn't see to put a bezoar in the pocket of her robe and was also removed. Despite all that everyone left with a pleasant impression.

After the class, while Veans sat at his desk, making notes on some papers, I approached him and tried to apologize for what happened at the party.

"I should have gone over and greeted you, sir," I said, suddenly being aware of how silly it sounded. "I was disrespectful."

"Miss Granger," Veans replied coldly, not taking his eyes off the parchment, "do you really believe that it has affected me in any way?"

He looked up sharply and his green eyes were like the flash of Avada Kedavra.

"The last thing that I needed that evening was the greetings of a drunken student. The scene that I saw when you obscenely rubbed against some young man was more than enough to make me leave the hall as soon as possible."

I felt a burning shame. He was right, of course. At first, on that Tuesday, I was even somehow proud to discuss with my classmates the past party and the degree of everyone's intoxication. I wasn't a black sheep then, and although I didn't talk much, I listened with pleasure as Claudia and then Gina said how I "rocked". I was "with everyone", and this unity was reassuring.

But now it all disappeared, replaced by the unpleasant desire to erase the professor's memory because it was much easier than sinking through the ground.

Not allowing myself to cry, I said "I'm sorry, sir," and quickly left the laboratory.

Fortunately, Claudia had already gone for lunch, and I was able to calm down, having taken a walk up to the Merlin's College building, and back to the Dining Hall. At dinner, Claudia told me a really nasty story.

It turns out that after Poisons, she, Gina, Terry, and Judith decided to find Professor Boring so they could get topics for the reports. Since they didn't attend Bibliography often enough, they decided to increase their chances of passing the exam by presenting the reports.

The guys looked into the staffroom, where they were told that they could go to the auditorium, where we had classes on Bibliography, and Professor Boring would be there in a few minutes. They did just so. Having settled on the chairs beside the auditorium's door, they began to chat, and their conversation mostly concerned the Bibliography and its meaninglessness. Bit by bit the discussion of the subject turned to a conversation about the teacher's personality – and there was much to talk about. A slender short woman of indeterminate age who let herself go whatsoever, with sparse grey hair and snagged teeth, she was a glorious object for ridicule. The ordinary jokes soon evolved into outright cruel insults.

"Gina said that she wondered what Boring's husband was like," Terry said, "and then I said that I doubt that she had one at all because it's unlikely that anyone could see her as a woman."

Gina and Claudia pulled the doleful faces.

"And then I added that she... Oh, Merlin's beard, I said such awful things, I'm ashamed even to repeat it."

Terry nodded in assent.

"And we spoke so loudly, and laughed like crazy," Gina added.

The guys mocked the professor for a while until suddenly the door to the auditorium opened and Boring herself went out to the corridor. She asked in her quiet squeaky voice:

"Young men, did you want something?"

But the guys froze with their mouths open. They didn't expect the professor to have been inside all along, and at the same time, they realized that she could hear every word of theirs.

"It was awful," Claudia told me. "I didn't know what to do with myself."

"Yeah, and she was looking at us with her beady eyes, you know, so calmly," Terry said vexatiously. "Merlin's balls..."

"And how are you expecting to pass the exam now?" Julius Glauber, who listened to the whole story, asked rhetorically.

"To hell with it, with the exam!" Terry exclaimed heatedly.

"Nothing matters but that it's just... just..." Gina couldn't find the words, but Claudia helped her:

"A shame."

Ginny and Terry nodded in agreement.

"I feel so sorry for her now," Marie, who was also sitting nearby, said.

"Well, did you even get the topics for the reports?" I asked.

Claudia nodded affirmatively, but then a confused expression appeared on her face.

"But I've already forgotten mine... I was so lost that I listened to Boring with half an ear. The only thing I thought about was whether she'd heard anything we said or not."

"Shit, me too," Terry echoed.

"Maybe Judith remembers?" Gina suggested. "She had already had lunch, we should drop by her dorm later."

The story was really nasty. And even not so much because of possible academic difficulties – for some reason I felt that, despite seeming wooden, Professor Boring wouldn't hold a grudge. And her exam was hard to pass in the first place, even without all that mess. But the moral and ethical side of this issue was really important. And I was worried not only about possible hurt feelings of the professor but about this question: if there had been no suspicions that Professor Boring heard what the guys were saying, how would they and anybody else perceive this incident? Would anyone care about the fact that a handful of students had badmouthed behind the teacher's back? This was a quite common thing. It turns out that gossiping about someone and saying cruel things about him was normal as long as you were not caught. Sounds Slytherin, and everything that falls into this category has always been considered bad. But on the other hand, if you don't like a person, it would be considered hypocrisy to speak well of him or constantly protect him. So what was right to do?

That's why I prefer not to talk at all.

After lunch, Claudia insisted that we go for a walk. According to her, I needed to chill out a bit and catch a breath of fresh air. I didn't mind. We lay down on the grass in the lawn in front of Flamel's College and the Dining Hall after having applied a warming spell to the cold ground. There were quite a few students here – such a sunny day as today was very rare at the end of September.

Claudia was carried away describing how she was going to do up her home in Romania. Her dad gave her a small mansion in Wallachia for her eighteenth birthday, but because of her university studies, she had almost no time to deal with it. After defending her graduation project, Claudia was planning to go there and turn the old house into "the elegant residence". She had long pleaded Jason to agree to live with her there, but Jason was repulsed by the idea of living in his girlfriend's house. He believed that it should be the other way round, but his own shabby apartment in Liverpool wasn't the most acceptable habitation. This question – about where they are going to live – occasionally, if not regularly, became the cause of their quarrels. But now Claudia just put it behind and was describing passionately to me, what tiles she would decorate her bathroom with.

I listened to her half-heartedly, thoughtfully nibbling a slightly dull grass blade. Suddenly, I noticed some movement out of the corner of my eye. Claudia fell silent. I turned my head slightly and saw a pair of shiny black boots. I quickly rose to my feet and my eyes met the anxious gaze of Professor Veans.

"Sir?" I said inquiringly.

"Miss Granger," he said seriously and then smiled broadly.

I was surprised. Even frightened to some extent.

"I wanted to apologize for my behaviour this afternoon," he said amiably. "I was inexcusably rude."

Having said this, he bowed courteously.

"It's okay, sir," I said, confused. "Actually, you were absolutely right."

"Very well..." Veans regarded me with a hard stare for a few seconds, then beamed again, quickly turned around and left.

I followed him with my eyes for a while, stunned. Then I sank to the ground. Claudia immediately pounced at me with a strong hug. Pinning me down to the ground, she hung over me, her long wavy locks tickling my face. Her eyes sparkled.

"Claudia, for Merlin's sake, get off of me," I said angrily. "Are you even in your right mind?"

"He's in love with you!" Claudia exclaimed, moving away and allowing me to sit down. "Can you believe it?! Lucky you!"

I gave her a half-questioning, half-surprised look.

"Didn't you see what just happened?" I asked.

"Of course, I did!"

"In that case, you should have noticed how bizarrely Professor Veans behaved."

Claudia sighed and looked at me like I was an ignorant child.

"Well, of course, he behaved bizarrely!" she replied. "All people in love behave like that."

I just shook my head, not wanting to argue with my stubborn friend. And although she talked heatedly for a few more minutes about how everyone would envy me, I didn't pay attention to it. I knew that it wasn't about love at all. But about what?

──────── • ✤ • ────────

29th of September, Tuesday:

The regular meeting of the Student Council took place on Tuesday. It turned out that this year our university would hold the annual conference on "Potions and Artefacts". Each time it took place in one of the five existing magical universities, and it was our turn again. I was appointed to be responsible for the organization of the event, and I was given a young man from the fourth year as an assistant – Emile Gaultier.

After the meeting, the two of us went to the Chocolate Frog Café to discuss our strategy and get to know each other at the same time. Despite the three years he'd spent in England, he spoke with a strong French accent, and he was constantly pulling the edge of the napkin with his thin fingers. He never looked into my eyes and very gracefully removed his bangs when it fell on his face. Emile seemed shy to me, a bit strange, but a very responsible boy. And I immediately realized that we would have no problems with who was in charge of this team.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

3th of October, Saturday:

When Saturday finally came, the unwelcome news arrived – the team that was supposed to play against Triffany College was suffering from food poisoning and the match was cancelled. Claudia offered to still go for a walk with Jason and, perhaps Dick, but then Jason himself came – alone – and suggested the both of us go to the cinema with him. We agreed. I didn't ask where Dick was, deciding that if he didn't appear, then he didn't want to. Jason had surely invited him too. Unfortunately, Claudia didn't inquire either, and I was angry with her for such a sudden lack of curiosity.

The movie turned out to be totally boring and barely comprehensible. As soon as it was over, I went to the Floo Hall and was home within a moment. My not so cheerful mood was suited only to sitting by the fireplace with a book and Crookshanks in my lap.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my superb beta, PensievePrince. I wouldn't be able to do it without you.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 4**

" _Don't spend time with someone, who doesn't care spending it with you."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

4th of October, Sunday:

On Sunday, I returned to the university early because Harry and Ginny were invited to dinner with Lavender Wood, née Brown, and her husband Oliver. Ron also had a date, so I decided to do some research on the term paper using a couple of new books which I'd bought in the university shop. I wanted to learn as much as possible about current studies, so as not to take a topic that someone else was working on.

But towards the evening my thoughts began to return to Dick time and again. And then a brilliant thought dawned on me – why not write him a letter? But there had to be a reason for it. On reflection, I remembered that last year Dick had also happened to organize the conference at his college. Fluttering with joy, I took a parchment from my desk drawer, grabbed a quill and, dipping it in the inkwell, began to write quickly.

An owl, which I'd sent to Dick, flew into the open window twenty minutes later. His answer was tied to its leg. He told me about the conference, and in his letter, I sensed a readiness to continue the conversation. I wrote the answer, and within ten minutes the owl flew back.

Letter by letter, we corresponded almost all night. Only at about four in the morning did he write that he was going to sleep, and I immediately regretted that I didn't stop the correspondence first. But I was adamant that the next time I would be the one to end our conversation so that there would be no feeling that I was obtruding all the time.

Anyway, I went to bed contented and happy.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

5th of October, Monday:

However, I wasn't so happy the next morning. I couldn't bring myself to rise and walk to the greenhouses and ended up missing Herbology. Claudia, who had returned from Romania in the morning, ran off to the classes without getting a sensible explanation for my unwillingness to get up so early.

I did manage to force myself to rise by lunchtime. Dragging myself to the Dining Hall, I saw my classmates walking in the distance and went to meet them halfway. As soon as I neared Claudia, she grabbed me by the arm and began to tell me how she had just been almost bitten by nepenthes, but Terry had saved her, who, by the way, broke up with Gina because rumour had it that she caught him drunk in the company of some sophomore beauty, the cousin of the girl she told me about a week ago — a friend of a girl Jason had dated before...

I listened with half an ear since I still really wanted to sleep. Finally, Claudia noticed this and asked what happened to me. Having noted that almost all our classmates had left us behind and were far ahead, I replied:

"I corresponded with Dick all night," I tried to make it sound casual.

But Claudia wrapped her mind around this news and exclaimed happily:

"Wow, that's cool!"

"The owl didn't seem to think so. Closer to two in the morning, she came flying to me not only with Dick's answer but also with her friend as a substitute. Meanwhile, the latter was able to express such displeasure with her eyes that I had to feed her all your chocolate cookies, which she turned out to have a penchant for."

"No wonder, they're really delicious," Claudia said thoughtfully, and then, as if coming around, asked loudly. "So what did you chat about?"

"Just this and that. Nothing in particular, actually..."

"He didn't invite you anywhere?"

I sighed discontentedly and replied, twisting my lips:

"Why would he invite me somewhere? All we did was write a few letters."

"Pffff. Why on earth is he so indecisive?" she flared sincerely.

I rolled my eyes. Did she not understand that we were just feeling our way, so to speak. And there was nothing to it in our correspondence. Just friendly chatter...

"And in your opinion, he should have immediately rushed to me with a bunch of roses and a proposal? Indeed, after SUCH a night, every decent man..."

"Aw, don't be so mean!" Claudia hugged me and let me go the next moment to jump over a small puddle.

She looked like a butterfly fluttering from flower to flower, so bright and restless.

At that moment, someone passed quickly between me and Claudia, and I was able to recognize Professor Veans by the wavy blond hair, not so tall noble figure and a fleeting gait.

"Oh, and here goes your other admirer," Claudia giggled. "I hope he heard everything!"

I looked at my friend as if she was a nut job. She took me by the arm again and explained:

"Then he'll get jealous and will hasten to take the bull by the horns before you are claimed."

I angrily yanked my hand out of her grasping fingers and answered irritably:

"Just a moment ago you were rejoicing that my relationship with Dick was getting better."

"You should always keep another option up your sleeve," Claudia replied carelessly. "And, for the record, I like Veans better."

We entered the Dining Hall and took the empty seats. I glanced at the long staff table, standing at the end of the hall perpendicular to ours. Professor Veans was already sitting there, talking to Professor Pitch with, it seemed, a great reluctance.

"And why do you prefer him?" I asked Claudia quietly so that no one else would hear.

Claudia took two sandwiches from the plate, combined them into one, and with relish bit off a chunk. Having covered herself with sauce, she smiled contentedly and tried to answer with her mouth full.

I sniffed up the air and looked somewhere up, questioning the heavens why they kept sending me friends with the same disgusting habits.

Fortunately, Claudia herself realized that it wasn't convenient to speak with a mouth full of food, so she first finished chewing, and then announced enthusiastically:

"Well, Veans is so manly! He just has this aura of strength and confidence. And he is so... mysterious, so... mmm..."

I shrugged. He was beautiful, no doubt, but in order to make me sit with the same stupid dreamy face as Claudia was sitting with, he would have to try really hard.

"And what about your Dick?" she continued, waking from her fantasies. "Interesting, funny, cute, that's sure. But damn, he's so... somewhat on again, off again, he doesn't even know what he wants. A wimp, to put it in a nutshell."

"An exhaustive description," I stated.

Truth be told, I agreed. Despite the cheerful nature and easiness in communication, Dick could be called phlegmatic. Moreover, he preferred to let things run their course or let other people decide everything for him. Once in a while, he did rebel but only if life promised difficulties or a sharp change in the usual calm course of life. Go with the flow and avoid making serious decisions – that was the philosophy of his life, and I couldn't say that I liked it. But when you fall in love, these things don't really matter. It's impossible to listen to the arguments of reason in affairs of the heart.

After lunch, Claudia convinced me to skip Bibliography but it began to rain outside so instead of the intended walk, we settled for a get-together at the Chocolate Frog Café. A lot of our classmates were there – Bibliography wasn't that alluring. And thanks to Judith, our conversation turned to Professor Veans once again.

"I really don't want to go to Poisons!" she drawled out with an accent, which I couldn't get used to.

"Just a short while ago you said quite the opposite," Terry remarked.

"Back then Veans hadn't shouted at me yet!"

"He didn't shout," I pointed. "He doesn't shout at all. He quite rightfully reprimanded you for non-compliance with the safety instructions. It's first-year material, by the way."

"Oh, yeah, Professor Jordison," Claudia exclaimed cheerfully, and then, mimicking him, said through her nose: "You can read about this in my book, kids. By the way, make sure you buy it. It will be your handbook for all the five years. Only two galleons. You can find it in our shop..."

Everyone burst out laughing. Jordison, an overweight man with a fluffy silver moustache and a very unpleasant voice, mentioned his scientific work "Introduction to the Subject of Potions" at least once during each class and insisted that everyone bought this printed publication.

"Well, even though Jordison was an idiot, he at least didn't humiliate us like Veans," Judith didn't budge.

"You think Veans humiliated you?" I stepped in immediately. "You have no idea what it is to be humiliated. We had one professor in our school – an outstanding potioneer – but with a very foul character. McPherson can confirm."

Terry nodded.

"You mean Snape? Yeaaaaah. It was the horror of horrors! A bat... He could drag you through the shit – and not even notice."

"Uh... that's a bit too harsh..." I mumbled.

"My house hadn't been having a very rough go of it, but he loathed Gryffindor. Hufflepuffs were like a waste of space to him and he indulged Slytherins all the time. Plus he did it so ostentatiously that no one even had any doubts that he was being unfair. And the Headmaster tolerated all of this. Although, once again, the situation wasn't so bad in my classes but when Harry Potter arrived the year after me, all hell broke loose..."

"Look, is this the same Snape who killed Dumbledore?" Judith asked.

"Uh-huh, the very same," Terry replied. "And then the snake devoured him. Yeah, Hermione saw everything herself... Hermione?"

I hyperventilated, trying to calm down. When I remembered Professor Snape, I tried to muffle the sense of injustice that flared up within me every time his name was mentioned. I tried to put my emotions aside – in the end, you need to learn how to access the past without painful feelings.

But when Terry began to speak and, to make it worse, so disrespectfully, when Judith asked about the murder without a single emotion, I couldn't keep cool. For people who steered clear of the war, who lived in another country, or were not engaged actively in the fight, those times were only a history. Everyone knew Harry Potter, everyone considered him a hero, but there were so many heroes besides him! And they were so unfairly forgotten. No, not by the Ministry, and not by those who stood shoulder to shoulder with them, fighting the evil. But by these ordinary wizards... Did Professor Snape die completely in vain?

"He wasn't 'devoured' by the snake. Nagini, Voldemort's serpent, bit him," I said through gritted teeth, my voice trembling nervously. "And even though he died so ingloriously, he was a very brave man and a hero of the war. You simply have no right to speak so disrespectfully of him, McPherson."

"Oh, come on, Granger!" Terry exclaimed. "You were the one he was hitting the hardest!"

I got angry and wanted to answer something harsh when Judith asked in her annoyingly drawling voice:

"How can he be a hero if he killed Dumbledore?"

I took a deep breath:

"Dumbledore ordered him to do it, because... Merlin, this is a very long story. I believe that someday someone will write the truth about everything that happened back then, and those events will be recorded in every history textbook. As for now, just take my word for it. It. Was. Necessary. Everyone did their part, and we won."

I squeezed my wand in my hands and suddenly noticed that Judith, Claudia, and also Gina, who silently sat beside us all this time and listened to our conversation, were all looking at me with some awe.

But Terry still didn't want to settle down:

"If Snape is a hero, why is he not on the lists, I wonder? Why wasn't he awarded the Order of Merlin of any class? They do award it posthumously."

"They do!" I snapped. "If you're so interested, I had to bury more than one friend of mine, admiring the Orders on their chests. But what is there to these Orders if a person is no longer alive?"

"They mean his role in the history and the way most people perceive him," Terry declared. "I mean, in, let's say, two hundred years, when the history of our time will be taught, who will Snape be labelled as? As a Death Eater of course! He killed Dumbledore and died as Voldemort's minion. No one there is going to try puzzling out for whom he really spied, and why and whom he killed."

I tried to calm down and speak without excessive emotions. In the end, Terry was right in some way.

"The problem is that there is no evidence," I said dryly, "except for Harry's testimony. The Ministry seemed to believe him, but no one actually delved into this matter. And we also had too much on our plates, those were really hard times. After that, we tried to start a new life, leave the war behind. But it was important for us that Professor Snape remained a hero in our memory."

"Oh, and you probably visit his grave every month?" Terry inquired sarcastically.

"You are so insensitive!" Claudia exclaimed. "Do you have no heart at all?"

"As you should know, Professor Snape wasn't buried, because after the fire in the Shrieking Shack, nothing..." I coughed nervously, "nothing remained of him. But there is a tombstone where the Shack used to be, and yes, every summer, I, Harry, and others – those who risked their lives in that war, and didn't sit at home under mummy's wing – we come there... to remember."

A dead silence fell over our table.

"Sorry, I need to leave," I said quietly and left the café.

I ran to the bridge over the Poisonous Canal. The rain was heavy and I got thoroughly soaked, but I didn't want to go anywhere under the roof, I didn't want to meet people, to talk. The argument with Terry unsettled me to no end, although I had had to get used to it, I should have taken it calmly. McPherson's opinion meant nothing to me, what counted most was what I thought, what I felt, what I remembered. But Terry scraped those strings of my soul that were very sensitive to touch and drew out unexpectedly high notes.

Having got soaked to the bone, I returned to Flamel's College only when it was time to go to Poisons.

I entered the lecture hall one of the last. As soon as I closed the door behind me the clock on the Old Tower chimed and Professor Veans stepped into the auditorium.

"What's the matter, Miss Granger?" he asked sternly. "Why are you walking around the lecture hall?"

I turned around.

"I just got here, sir."

"So make haste and take your place, you are delaying your colleagues and me."

I raised my eyebrows wonderingly and hurried to take the nearest empty seat.

"As practice has shown," Veans said with displeasure, laying out some parchments on the lecturing desk, "your..." here he took a short pause as if trying to find a milder expression, "minds absorb no more than ten percent of the information that I share with you so vainly. You will be able to get the results of the laboratory work from the heads of your classes, who should come to me after the lecture and pick up the parchments with the points. As you are going to see from these lists, the level of your knowledge and skills is catastrophically low. In order to avoid such deplorable results in the future, I will systematically carry out tests, and your average score for them will drastically affect your final grade for this course."

A disgruntled murmur flew over the auditorium, and Veans, who until that moment had been restraining the fury that was rushing out, suddenly growled:

"Silence!"

And everyone hushed up.

"I won't warn about the upcoming tests," the professor continued in an even voice, "so you must be ready for each class. It also means that you should not skip them."

Such atrocities were unusual at the university, but the students decided to restrain their discontent until the end of the lecture. However, Veans condescended to explain why he was recoursing to such stern measures:

"It is probable that in the future, human lives will depend on your knowledge and skills. This is not about some furniture polish or a potion for adding shine to the hair. And not even about a Dreamless Sleep Potion. Poisons and antidotes are not science, but the art of balancing between life and death," Veans stepped from the lecturing desk and began pacing slowly in front of the audience. "There is the thinnest borderline between the first and the second, but also a wide gap. One wrong ingredient, and from a saviour you turn into a killer. Who?!" suddenly he asked loudly, and everyone jumped. "Who among you is ready to take responsibility for the life of another person? Maybe you?" he pointed to the girl in front of him. "Or you?" he turned to the young man in the back row. "Maybe. But definitely not me. And if one of you, because of his ignorance, poisons a sick child or his own grandfather, I'll be the one to blame. Because when you will be asked who gave you the right to claim that you can brew antidotes and save wizards, you will take out your diploma and show the mark on my subject. And you will say: "This is my permission. I know, I'm able, I can". Therefore, believe me," the last line the professor uttered with a somewhat maniacal gleam in his eyes, which made everyone believe his every word, "none of you will receive even a passing grade if I won't be sure that you deserve it."

There was silence in the auditorium. Professor Veans, having returned to the podium, said tranquilly:

"And the topic of today's lecture is..."

The auditorium instantly sprang to life with the rustle of the parchments and the inkwells' lids' clatter. Julius Glauber, who was sitting next to me, whispered:

"Well, Granger, do you still want to write under him?"

I looked up at him with silent delight probably readable in my eyes, and the young man answered his own question.

"Ooh, I see. You two sure are going to click."

Throughout the lecture, I tried not to fall asleep. Everything that Professor Veans said was really interesting, but the sleepless night took a toll on me. My eyes were closing on their own, my head seemed to be leaden, and I regretted not taking the Invigoration Draught before the class. Veans frowned at me a few times, probably noticing how I yawned, propped up my head with my hand and blinked constantly, hoping that drowsiness would disappear by itself. But he never gave any comment on this, despite the fact that in his eyes there was a clear desire to say something harsh about my condition. And I had no doubt that if he did, it would be something very sarcastic and offending, so I could only mentally thank him for the restraint he showed.

After the class, he asked me to stay.

"Miss Granger, you are most likely to be able to start working in the laboratory on a graduation project starting from the next week."

"Yes, sir, thank you," I replied.

"And take note that I will not allow you into the laboratory in such a state as today."

He concentrated on rolling the parchments into tubes and putting them into one another. I looked at him carefully.

"Sir, I..."

"What is unclear to you, Miss Granger?" the professor asked petulantly, not looking up from his task.

"Nothing, sir. Excuse me. Goodbye," I answered.

Veans raised his head, and, looking in my eyes calculatingly, he smiled broadly:

"Have a nice day," he said, and I hurried to leave the auditorium.

Claudia was waiting for me in the hall. As soon as I approached, she began chirping about Professor Veans enthusiastically:

"Oh, Morgana! No, did you see that look? Did you hear that voice? Those imperious notes... mm... How lucky you are, Hermione!"

I crossed the hall, accompanied by Claudia and her yells, and left the academic building. It was still raining outside, and I took out my wand and conjured a small protective screen over myself, deliberately not making it large enough to cover Claudia too. Then she had to hush for a while in order to conjure her own defence. She pulled a miniature umbrella out of her pocket, which she immediately Engorged and forced to fly over herself.

"Doesn't it scare you that he can run a test at any moment?" I asked.

"Of course, it does! And he is horrible as a teacher. I don't mean it as he is a bad one," she corrected herself, "I mean that he is very strict and menacing. But as a man, he can sweep any girl off her feet."

We headed to the Dining Hall, although I wasn't hungry at all. Quite a few students who had just been to Veans's lecture were walking next to us, and everyone was discussing the cruelty of his teaching methods.

"I don't know," I replied to my friend, "I think he is just ill-tempered and has a giant ego. However, there are reasons for that. Although I haven't yet been able to assess the scale of his talent, I'm sure he is a great Potions Master. And, of course, he is an excellent speaker and a brilliant teacher. If it were not for the personal qualities that make him somewhat cruel, he would be invaluable."

"Yada yada yada," Claudia answered in a bored tone, and immediately changed the subject, asking me about the conference I was supposed to prepare, and, most importantly, about who should help me with it – Emile Gaultier.

That evening I hoped to receive another letter from Dick – we were corresponding so excitingly last night – but not a single owl scratched at my window, and after midnight, having finished reading the novel by mage-writer Muffin Caldenroy, "Apparating to the Sonneville", I went to bed.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

9th of October, Friday:

The end of the school week came but I didn't receive a single letter from Dick. Despite the keen desire to write first, I promised myself not to.

After the classes, I had an appointment with Emile. Having settled in the Chocolate Frog Café at one of the tables in the very corner, we took out long scrolls with everything that we had to do to organize the conference and began a discussion.

"Firsten and Charity should sort out applications from the participants and invitation letters," I said while writing down the names of the girls next to the respective item, "but the latter should be drawn up first."

"I've already made a draft version," Emile uttered softly and took a fairly crumpled scroll out from his bag.

Having removed a dark wavy strand from his face with a careless motion, he unfolded the parchment and quietly read me the text of the invitation for guests and conference participants.

"Excellent," I said sincerely when he finished. "Just perfect. It's wonderful that they gave me you as an assistant – who else would have guessed to compose this text and, moreover, done the task in such an elegant style?"

Emile smiled shyly and handed me the parchment.

"No, no, give it to Charity, she knows what to do next. They do have the lists."

"Dean Pitch said that there are going to be participants from Abkhazia. She'll give the names later because they are not confirmed yet."

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," I replied. "In any case, Charity should deal with that too. Of course, I must be informed when everything will come out..."

When the organizational issues were over all-in-all, and we just re-discussed some of the details, I began to notice that Emile threw strange, diffident looks at me.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, unable to withstand the waves of uncertainty that those dark eyes were sending me.

And now it seemed he was blushing. Assuring me that everything was alright, he hurried to say goodbye and leave.

In the evening, Claudia asked me if I would go to Quidditch. After giving it a thought for a few moments, I replied that I wouldn't. In the end, if Dick didn't show any interest after that night of correspondence, it meant that there was no interest at all.

And then I fretted all evening, wondering if I was doing the right thing, but I didn't intend to change my decision.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

10th of October, Saturday:

The next morning I received a letter from the Dean, Professor Pitch, with an offer to participate in the Potions and Artifacts conference, the one I was organizing. Pitch wrote in her letter that, despite my perfidious decision to write a diploma under Professor Veans guidance – a venture that is unlikely to be successful for a number of reasons, that I certainly could guess myself – I was still a talented student, and I could prepare a good report by putting together my previous term papers. And she, Pitch, would be so kind and help me in this difficult endeavour. After all, she is our Dean, and for her, each student is like her own child.

Truth be told, she just was eager to introduce her student at this event – and, preferably, not an ordinary student, but the one she could show off to her colleagues. I was flattered by such an honour, and the opportunity presented was truly amazing.

After some thought, I decided to visit the Dean of the college and personally thank her for her choice. Before doing so I have sent her an owl and received a reply saying that Pitch would be glad to see me right after breakfast.

After having coffee and croissants at the Chocolate Frog Café, Claudia ran to the Quidditch field, and I headed to the Professors' campus, that was located behind the Professors' garden. Among a number of small duplex houses – just like in London – I found the already familiar red brick one with white shutters and arched head moldings. The cottage was precisely symmetrical, but it immediately struck the eye that the left and right parts belonged to different owners. The left door was painted grass green, while the right one was an ocher colour. The flowerbed under the windows of the left side was planted with evenly trimmed bushes and various flowers, definitely arranged in some kind of pattern, on the right side – some chaotically growing herbs that were often used in potions and, as by mistake, a wild rose bush. Even the tile on high gable roof was of different shapes and tones. But I knew that on the other side both parts were connected by a common terrace, where Dean Pitch happened to be waiting for me.

A tall, lean woman with greying hair sat casually in a summer armchair, sipping her milk tea. Despite the foul weather, it was dry and warm on the open terrace, and I settled down at a table opposite the Dean with pleasure. Politely refusing tea, I stated the purpose of my visit and expressed my gratitude.

"Oh, it's nothing!" Pitch waved it away, which was done only out of politeness.

Actually, she was very pleased to hear my words, as well as any pleasant words addressed to her. Vanity was customary for many university professors since almost all of them were scientists — and sometimes truly brilliant — and rightfully considered their achievements in the field of magical science worthy of respect and sometimes veneration. But in some of them, pride shaded all other qualities, showing through every word and gesture.

"Good morning," someone said suddenly, and I looked from Pitch's face to her neighbour, who had just come to the terrace.

The Dean also turned around and smiled frostily.

"Ah, morning, Perseus."

"Good morning, Professor Veans," I uttered somewhat embarrassed.

For some reason, the fact that Pitch's previous neighbour was Torrent didn't allow me to come to the conclusion that now this "title" went to the one who took place over the former Poisons teacher. Those several times when I visited the Dean, Professor Torrent, fortunately, was absent from home, and therefore no one ever appeared on this common terrace as Professor Veans did that morning.

"Oh!" Pitch suddenly breathed out. "The fireplace. That's probably my daughter, Nerida. Miss Granger, please excuse me, I will be back just in a minute."

With these words, the Dean disappeared into the house.

Professor Veans, who by that moment had approached the railing and was now looking off into the distance, asked:

"What made you miss the Quidditch match, Miss Granger?"

I felt abashed and it took me some time to find what to answer:

"Professor Pitch suggested that I take part in the Potions and Artifacts conference, which will be held at our college on the fourth of December, sir. My term papers last year and the year before that were related to this topic, and now Professor Pitch considers it possible to combine them into one report."

Professor Veans looked at me very thoughtfully.

"Potions and Artifacts..." he uttered.

At that, he pushed off from the parapet in one swift motion and, in a blink of an eye, got seated at the table opposite me. Locking his fingers, he looked at them first, then raised his eyes and stared at me. Piercing green eyes studied my face searchingly, and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

"Sir?"

"What's your topic?" he finally asked.

"Theoretical basis. Conditions of reactions, characteristics..."

"I see," he snapped, interrupting me.

After a pause, he said:

"And what if I say that I study..." he shook his head to remove the bangs that were obscuring his view, and continued, "a similar theme. But from a practical point of view."

I straightened, giving the professor a predatory look.

"And what is your subject, sir?" I asked, my voice full of impatience.

"Does the word Dysfolid ring any bells?"

The name seemed familiar, but I couldn't remember anything in particular. However, I didn't want to admit that I knew nothing about it, so I put on a contemplative look.

"I think I heard something..."

Professor Veans raised his eyebrows questioningly, clearly expressing disbelief.

"You don't mean to say that you really know anything about this artifact?" he inquired mockingly. "Don't scare me, Miss Granger."

I gave up.

"No, nothing specific, actually."

"You made me doubt it for a split second. So... For now, I would like not to reveal what exactly I'm working on, but tell me – are you ready to finally move away from the theory and focus on the practice as it is?"

I bit my lip – an old habit that surfaced in my moments of great excitement. Merlin, of course, I wanted to practice! But if I told Professor Pitch again that I was leaving her for Professor Veans, she would never forgive me for this. I cautiously expressed my concerns.

Here Pitch returned to the terrace.

"Are you trying to steal my student again?" she asked Veans half-jokingly.

"On the contrary, madam, I'm doing my best to ensure there's enough of Miss Granger for everyone," he replied. "Was it your daughter?" he asked suddenly.

I shifted my gaze to Professor Pitch. She was pleased with the opportunity to share the news:

"Indeed it was," she answered, trying to look significant. "She was invited to work at a healing centre in Japan and is offered a teaching position at the University of Salem. She hurried to contact me in order to seek advice. She always consults me for everything. I told her that, Nerida, a healing centre, is, of course, wonderful, but what kind of husband would you find there? There will be only Japanese around," Pitch twitched her lips, showing her attitude to the representatives of this nation as a life partner for her only child.

"You gave a wise advice," Veans said seriously and smiled.

Professor Pitch coughed self-consciously.

"Really, Perseus..." she murmured, and I tried to hide my surprise.

"Your daughter got very lucky with a mother. Just as Miss Granger," here Veans looked at me, "with a curator. Pity that you have already taken her under your wing, madam."

"How so?" Pitch asked, her tone changing to a sterner one again.

"I'm working with Dysfolid at the moment, it so happened that I became its proud owner..." Veans said as if in between times and continued after a short pause. "A talented student would be very helpful. But I'm sure that under your guidance, Miss Granger will be able to create a much more worthy project than under mine."

At the mention of Dysfolid, Professor Pitch changed her countenance.

"Well... I..." she began, breathing deeply, "on the other hand... of course, you are right, but you joined us quite recently, and I, as the Dean of the college, must help you. And the topic is close to ours... Therefore ... I am ready to make advances," Pitch tried to feign a weak smile. "What would you think of double mentorship?"

"Oh, madam! That would be so generous of you!" Veans smiled again and rose from the table, bowing gracefully. "Miss Granger, in that case, I expect you on Thursday. Good day."

I spent the remainder of the day in the library looking for any bit of information about Dysfolid, but with no such luck.

In the evening, I told Claudia about what happened at Pitch's, to which she immediately clapped her hands, assuring me that Veans did this out of his passionate love for me, and not because of my potions skills at all.

"Thank you, Claudia," I replied discontented.

"No, I didn't mean it like that!" she began, but then, as was her habit, she abruptly changed the subject. "Today that idiot Tallulah was with us in the café. She threw herself at Dick like a cat in heat. Although he didn't seem to like it very much."

"I couldn't care less. Why are you telling me this?" I replied, trying to dissociate myself from what Claudia was saying, scrutinizing the illustrations in the "Artifacts of Antiquity" book.

"Well, no reason... Are you going to visit Harry and the rest tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"And your parents?"

"Yes."

"And then you'll be back to the university?"

"Yes, Claudia. As always. Any more questions?" I asked irritably.

"Yeah. Where are my turquoise beads?"

──────── • ✤ • ────────

15th of October, Thursday:

On Thursday afternoon, I went to the auditorium where Professor Veans delivered his lectures. The professor himself arrived a few minutes later and ordered me to follow him. We walked past the common laboratory and stopped near a small inconspicuous door at the end of the corridor. Veans mumbled the password and we went inside, finding ourselves in a small room with long narrow tables that made a letter "U" in the centre and one desk in the corner. Along the walls were shelves with books and various brewing devices.

The professor led me to one of the cabinets, opened the doors and pointed to the empty space inside.

"Here you can store your belongings that will be necessary for you during the work. Records, test samples and so on. Remember that apart from you, other students use this laboratory too, so every time after you are finished make sure that the work benches remain perfectly clean, and all your stuff is put here in this closet."

"Yes, sir," I replied. "But still, I would like to know what exactly I will be working on."

"Of course."

Having whispered the password, Veans opened a nearby cabinet and from there levitated a large cauldron onto the table. The potion within was in stasis — that means that all processes were stopped until the professor had time to work with it again. After removing the spell, he suggested that I come closer and try to identify the potion.

I stopped at about three feet from the cauldron and waved my wand, checking whether poisonous vapours were coming from the cauldron and whether it was safe to invade the "personal space" of the potion. Having made sure there was no danger, I came closer. I examined the colour, smell, and texture of the liquid and came to unexpected conclusions:

"It looks like a Polyjuice Potion, but... there is something added to it, or something..."

I was outright confused. Professor Veans grinned contentedly and neared the cauldron too, standing beside me.

"You're right. This is a modified Polyjuice Potion. It lasts for two hours," the professor said in triumph, and I looked at him with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

"Did you make this, Professor?"

"Of course."

"But how?"

Veans pulled a small medallion in the form of a snake twisted into a spiral from his chest pocket.

"This is Dysfolid," he explained. "Do not touch!"

I snatched back my hand, which unwittingly reached for a shiny artifact.

"It's safe only for its owner. And you are not the one yet. This artifact is passed from potioneer to potioneer, from master to apprentice, and has several very valuable abilities. One of them is the influence over the properties of Boomslang skin – an essential ingredient in the composition of the Polyjuice Potion."

"Yes, I know that, sir," I replied, smiling involuntarily. "I even happened to brew a Polyjuice Potion once."

"Did you?" the professor responded.

"Yes, back in school."

"I didn't know that the school curriculum had changed so much," Veans said sarcastically. "In my times, we weren't trusted with such complicated potions."

"In your times?" I asked, not without a smile. "You seem to be no more than five years older than me. It's not such a big difference to talk about "your times" and "mine". Sir."

"Indeed," Veans murmured. "So with the help of this medallion, we can affect one ingredient. The maximal result that I was able to achieve this way is a two-hour lasting potion. I intend to extend its duration to three or even four hours. Our task is to figure out how."

"But I can't appear at the conference with your project, you have already done most of the work!"

"Do not think about it. If you manage to improve my method and extend the operating time, I'll let you take the credit for my discoveries."

"But this isn't fair!" I was indignant. "I just can't present someone else's work as mine."

"It will be your work too. The official joint project and my consent – what else do you need?"

I was still dissatisfied with this turn of events, but I decided that arguing was pointless and rude.

"Nothing, sir. Thank you very much."

"Help with theoretical basis will be on Pitch. Apparently. Actually, this means that you will have to work by yourself."

"I'm familiar with Professor Pitch's ways of working, thank you, sir," I replied tactfully.

After that, Professor Veans gave me a parchment with the names of the books that I was supposed to read by next Thursday. With that, he let me go.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

17th of October, Saturday:

On Saturday, I didn't go to Quidditch again. To my previous reasons was added the reading list from Veans. After sitting in the library until dinner, I ate in the Dining Room and returned to the dormitories to find Claudia, Jason, and Dick in our room. They sat on the floor playing a Muggle game.

"It's called a tabletop game for a reason," I said, smiling widely.

The three raised their heads and greeted me in unison.

"Why aren't you at the café?" I asked.

"We're sick of it," Claudia replied capriciously. "Every Saturday is the same. And the people are the same. Wanted some change."

"And where did you get this gem?" I inquired, pointing to a large paper board with checker patterns painted on it and three coloured plastic tokens standing at different distance rates from the finish.

"Last Sunday, I went with my father to the Muggle Goods Shop on Diagon Alley," Dick replied. "This was one of the few things that came with instructions, so I bought it."

"Isn't it cool?" Claudia asked, and I agreed.

As a child, I often played such games with my cousins and friends. This usually happened on rainy grey days. A warm and bright room was cosy, my mother brought us cocoa, and we chatted and laughed, throwing the dice and moving our tokens in the meantime.

"We'll finish the round soon and you can join then," Jason said.

The simplistic game didn't have much appeal to me, the time when it was fun was long gone but having cast a glance at Dick, I agreed.

"Only, in my opinion, it's more interesting to move the pieces on your own, and not with magic," I remarked when my time to join came. "What is the fun in just throwing the dice while the pieces go round the board by themselves?"

"But what's the difference?" Claudia wondered.

"Well... you can't even cheat this way," I replied, and everyone laughed and began to shout all together about how cunning I was, and that now they would keep a close eye on me.

Later we went to the Chocolate Frog Café and I started a conversation about the upcoming conference. Dick took an interest in my project, but as soon as I began to go into details, trying to explain the genius of what Veans did, Dick began to frown.

"Still, I don't understand, could it really be that no one before Veans managed to do this?" he asked.

"Even if someone did, it's unheard of. It often happens that potions' secrets are held within the family or between the master and the apprentice," I explained.

But Dick wasn't satisfied with this explanation. He asked, I answered, and as soon as my exposition turned to less popular science, he immediately came up with a question. I felt uncomfortable with a conversationalist who not only didn't understand what I admired but also tried to impugn the significance of the subject of my admiration.

But it became even worse when Dick tried to change the topic of our conversation to his own diploma. It turned out that I understood his science no more than he did mine. And this unpleasant feeling that the conversation went amiss only intensified.

For the first time since I'd known Dick, I was glad when he left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my superb beta, PensievePrince. I wouldn't be able to do it without you.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 5**

 _"There will always be people who'll hurt you, so you need to continue trusting, just be careful."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

19th of October, Monday:

On Monday morning, something out of the ordinary happened. Later, I found out that Claudia and her Morpheus were to blame – she forgot to set a time limit for this magic item, and we slept almost until the evening, while a winged figure flew around the room, wafting coloured dreams upon us.

A knock on the door woke us up — it was Marie who stopped by to ask why we didn't come to class. Claudia and I didn't understand right away what was going on, but when the situation was cleared up, I was horrified.

"We missed Professor Veans's lecture!" I exclaimed almost in full panic mode.

"Take it easy, Hermione..." Claudia said, who herself seemed thoughtful.

I clenched my teeth and snarled something unintelligible. When the fit of anger receded and I was able to express myself in human language once again, I told my friend:

"It's your fault. How many times have I told you to use the Potion for Dreamless Sleep? You are a future potioneer after all... at least yesterday it was very likely!"

Claudia rolled her eyes:

"Don't be such a drama queen. And I don't want to use the Dreamless Sleep Potion precisely because of the lack of dreams. In your own book — that red one — it says that dreams are important for the human brain and help it cope with stress."

I sighed nervously.

"We'll see how you'll handle stress by the name of Perseus Veans," I said.

"What?" Claudia was on the verge of laughing. "What's his first name again?" she demanded.

"The Horror of Stonehenge University, that's what," I snapped, putting my robe on. "I'm off out to the Professors' campus."

"What for?" Claudia asked, but then she put two and two together herself and uttered conspiratorially. "Oh! Drop a word for me too, okay?"

I gritted my teeth and left the room.

I rushed to Veans/Pitch's house and knocked on the brownish door of the Poisons teacher. There was no answer. I knocked again. Realizing that the professor wasn't at home – and being embarrassed by the curious glances of teachers passing by – I decided to come again later.

I knew that Professor Veans, as a thorough and proud man, would never disregard such an impudent escapade as skipping his lecture. And if I were anyone, but Hermione Granger, there could be a tiny sliver of hope that he didn't notice my absence. But, as Claudia rightly pointed out, Veans gave me special attention from the very first day of our acquaintance...

But I wanted to see him not only to assure him of my own innocence, we also needed to agree on our upcoming meeting on Thursday. And, perhaps, to make sure that he didn't come to hate me for such a display of disrespect.

Thinking about it, I leaned my back against the rough door and almost fell when it opened, letting me into the house.

Wary and surprised, I went inside and found myself in a small hallway with a staircase leading to the second floor and a door to another room. It was quiet.

I was a little alarmed that the door was left open so carelessly – it wasn't like Professor Veans to leave the house unlocked. So it seemed to me, at least. I hesitated in the hallway for a while, not knowing what to do. I should have left, but the feeling of anxiety and 'Harry Potter syndrome' fuelled the desire to go further, to see that nothing happened to the professor and... truth be told, take a glimpse of his quarters. A house can say more about a person than much else, and although I didn't suffer from excessive curiosity when it came to the personal lives of other people, I was still a little intrigued.

I opened the door leading to the next room and ended up in a small living room that was separated from the kitchen only by shelves of books. The living room seemed uninhabited. Personal belongings were hardly in evidence either on the shelves or on the mantel or on the coffee table. Order was reigning supreme everywhere, and it appeared that nothing had disturbed it for many days. I thought that this was how Professor Veans discovered the room when he entered the house after having replaced Professor Torrent. Dust, however, was nowhere to be found, but I supposed that the house elves could be thanked for that.

I walked to the bookshelves. Almost none of the volumes were of any great value – anything and everything that can be found in any bookstore for very little money. Some copies weren't related to potions but referred to various other areas of magical science. I didn't examine the titles thoroughly, because I was sure that there was nothing extraordinary in this room. Most likely, all the exiting stuff — that Veans certainly did possess — was in the rooms he used more often than this bleak living room. It may even be that the books that I saw here didn't actually belong to Veans, but to the former owners of the house.

Just as I took a step towards the kitchen, I heard a clatter somewhere upstairs. Then there were the sounds of the door slam and approaching footsteps. Someone — I still hoped that it was Professor Veans — was coming downstairs. My heart beat madly. I suddenly felt like a petty thief who was about to be caught in the act. I began to look around frantically, trying to decide where to stand or sit down, what position to take, how to start a conversation.

The steps were drawing nearer. Those were confident, firm steps that were fraught with peril. Each knock of the heels on the wooden steps indicated the determination and displeasure of the walker. My tension rose to the utmost pitch. For a brief moment, the idea of jumping out of a window or hiding behind a sofa crossed my mind. But then the sound of footsteps stopped. I swallowed nervously. My hands trembled and I hid them behind my back to hide my agitation. The door opened slowly and Professor Veans entered the room. Despite the relatively short stature and the absence of pronounced musculature, he looked impressive. He seemed to be taller than he really was, and although our eyes actually were on about the same level, I looked up at him.

The professor folded his arms, but then changed his position and leaned against the back of the sofa, clenching the carved wood with one hand. All this time, he stared at me intently with his piercing green eyes. Unable to withstand the silent pressure, I tried to explain myself:

"You probably want to know what I'm doing here, sir?" I asked in a slightly shaky voice and when no answer came, I continued. "You see, I wanted to come here to agree on our Thursday meeting," I avoided the professor's gaze, although I wasn't sure that this was a good idea, because he could have thought that I was lying, "and also... well... well, that's not the issue at the moment ... I knocked, but no one answered. And then I accidentally pushed the door and it turned out to be unlocked. Then I was afraid that something happened to you and decided to enter and check."

I lowered my head apologetically, still dreading to meet Veans's eyes. But the pause dragged on, he remained silent, and I dared to look up. The professor's gaze was fixed on me, his lips were compressed tightly and his eyes looked daggers. He was furious, and the question was whether he would allow his anger to spill out or I would have time to escape.

"I'm sorry," I said desperately, taking a small step toward the door leading to the hallway, "I shouldn't have done that. I apologize. I just wanted to talk about Thursday. But it seems now is not the time. I'll... come by later."

"Miss Granger..." Professor Veans said through the clenched teeth, "never again enter my house unless I invite you."

I had shivers running up and down my spine from how angry the teacher's voice was. I nodded.

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

"And now off you go. Out!"

I gladly accepted the offer to leave the "hospitable" house and popped out of the living room like a cork out of a champagne bottle.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

22th of October, Thursday:

On Thursday I came to the lab. I hadn't seen Veans since Monday, and therefore I wasn't sure that he would be there. But he was indeed in the room that he showed me earlier, perusing some parchment.

"Have you read everything I told you to?" he asked without greeting, not looking up from his reading.

My eyebrows shot upwards involuntarily, an expression of slight bemusement on my face.

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"Then check this out," he laid the parchment on the table and tapped it with his finger, then got up from the chair and went to the cauldron with the potion simmering inside.

Still a bit confused, I walked over to the table and eyed the text keenly. A manuscript. Judging by the date, from the fifteenth century. I immediately forgot about all the worries and meaningless nonsense and immersed myself in work.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

23th of October, Friday:

On Friday, I had a meeting with Emile again. After making sure that all the preparations for the conference were well under way, I allowed myself to chat with the young man about matters not related to our task. I told him in a few words what I was preparing for the conference together with Professor Veans, and Emile was fascinated. He also liked the subject of my future diploma. We discussed poisons, it turned out that Emile knew a lot about them, and soon moved to talk about our leisure time and Quidditch.

In the first days of our acquaintance, Emile seemed very shy to me but now I understood that he felt embarrassed only around strangers. After a few sincere conversations, he began to act more relaxed around me and in my eyes he became the sweetest boy in the whole of Stonehenge University.

"I can't say that I'm a hardcore Quidditch fan," he said with a charming French accent, "but I want to attend the matches because it seems fun to me. I mean, all these meetings, gathering in a café, chatting with players and spectators. Do you get me?"

I smiled with the corners of my lips and nodded. Of course, I could relate!

"But I'm not exactly friends with those who would go to Quidditch."

"You can go with me and Claudia," I replied with a cordiality that was foreign to my nature.

"Oh, that would be just great!" Emile exclaimed and looked away shyly, flushing a little.

When I told Claudia that evening that Emile was coming to the game with us, she immediately began questioning me about the young man.

"Well, so, what do you think of him?" she asked and I fell on the bed with a moan.

"I don't know! He's nice. Very nice."

"But do you like him?" my friend insisted.

"I don't KNOW! I don't think of him... in any way. He's a wonderful... person, but I cannot say that I have for him any 'romantic'," this word I uttered sarcastically, "feelings."

Claudia just rolled her eyes at such a reply.

"Alright, but don't, well, reject him right away," she advised.

"How can I 'reject' him if he didn't even... didn't give me any reason to? We just socialized. As friends."

"Oooh, you "just socialize" again! You just socialize with Dick, with Emile... I don't understand, you want to die an old maid or what?"

This pass has pissed me off. I jumped up from the bed.

"And you think that the main goal of my life is to find myself a boyfriend?" I exclaimed. "If I'm single, then what, I'm somehow flawed? And out of the desire to have someone, I must claw at any individual of the male sex? Or celebrate every time a guy notices me and start some romantic relationship with him without any second thought?"

Claudia sighed.

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm just worried about you."

"In this case, don't be!" I shouted. "Don't. Mess. With. My. Personal. Life."

My friend pouted, offended.

"Oh, fine. I meant well."

With these words, she picked up her wand and set to do her nails. Having decided that for the next twenty minutes it would be better for me not to be in the same room with Claudia, I went to have a shower.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

24th of October, Saturday:

On Saturday the long-awaited match finally came. I missed Dick and, tired after a week, I was looking forward to meeting him. Especially since the last time, we had parted on good terms, albeit a little tired of each other.

Triffany College team didn't participate in the game, and Dick and Jason joined us in the stands. Although, Emile settled quite deftly between me and Dick, taking that place with insistence and even impudence that was alien to his character. But I thought it might even play into my hands — I could be all nice and sweet with Emile, making Dick jealous.

But, unfortunately, it didn't work out. Emile was taciturn and withdrawn, and I never knew how to be persistent enough when dealing with guys, and even more so didn't know how to flirt so that it didn't look silly and fake.

The situation changed in the cafe, but for the worse: Dick didn't pay any attention to me at all, completely absorbed in talking with Carter and Jason about the upcoming match – next Saturday the team of Salem Magic University from America was coming to our university. Emile was involved in some amazingly uninteresting conversation with Claudia, and I just silently sipped the Witch's Caprice through a straw.

Soon I fell into despondency and self-pity, as well as a complete lack of interest in me from everyone at the table, made my eyes water. I quickly went to the restroom, where I tried to come to my senses. But nothing could help it, and I slipped out of the ladies' room unnoticed by the guys – which wasn't any difficult – passed between a couple of tables and left the café.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

25th of October, Sunday:

On Sunday I didn't go home or visit my friends. Firstly, I had to take care of some things for my studies, and secondly, I had no mood to see people at all.

Claudia went somewhere with Jason for the whole day, and I could just be alone in our room for a while. Deciding not to go to the lunch, I ordered pizza by owl, and, having settled on the bed, began to read a fiction book. A verse novel about love. Of course, my thoughts kept running back to Dick. When I reached the part where the main character wrote a letter to her lover, fearing his contempt, but still revealing her own feelings, I slammed a small volume shut and grabbed the parchment and the quill. Oh, if only I had finished the novel before doing that!

But I was determined. After all, if being objective, there was nothing disgraceful about the fact that I felt something for a certain young man. There was nothing shameful in it, nothing to be embarrassed about. And if – well, what if! – his feelings were the same? We would finally be able to speak freely about them. For some reason, I couldn't imagine anything further than that. My imagination has never drawn any rainbow pictures of our carefree future. For me, there was only 'now', and the feelings and thoughts that overwhelmed me 'at this very moment'. It wasn't so with everything for me – only with Dick.

Anyway, I just needed to write this letter. It was simply impossible to torment myself with this uncertainty anymore. After all, no matter what I said to Claudia, and even to myself, until I knew what Dick's feelings for me were, I deeply hoped that they were mutual.

Several parchments were ruined by letters that I found unsatisfactory. I wanted it to look natural, as if written casually. With a touch of self-irony and with a clear indication that I was confident my feelings weren't mutual. So that he didn't get the impression that I hoped for something.

In the end, I managed to put it like this:

"Hi, Dick!

Too bad that I had to leave the café without saying goodbye, but it seemed to me that there was no need for my presence. You know, it's always like that with me: guys who like me are of no interest to me. Some even fell in love with me, but I was indifferent, although I hoped that something would come out of it...

But those who I liked never looked at me. It was like some kind of revenge. Balance in the universe. And once again I have to find out how unpleasant it is when the one you really like treats you just as a friend.

And it also upsets me that I am writing all this and feel like a complete fool."

Having decided not to reread this nonsense, I shoved the letter to the owl and sat on the bed, hugging my knees. At first, I thought about what Dick would answer, went over the possible options in my head, recalled what I had written, and then I understood that I should have put it a little differently, shorter, more clearly...

Two hours later I began to regret my deed. Dick still hasn't answered and I was restless, thinking whether it was possible to return the letter or do something so that Dick wouldn't read it. I scolded myself immensely while nervously eating up the pizza.

After another couple of hours, I convinced myself that I had done everything correctly, that it was time to finally find out the truth.

A little later, when I was already settled on the floor, picking a small rug with my fingers, I regretted my action once again. I wondered what the heroine of the novel felt when she sent a message to her lover? And to think that in those times a rare woman would bring herself to take such a step at all! Nowadays the views on gender relations have become more liberal.

I grabbed the volume and resumed reading. The story didn't end well – the young man rejected the girl's feelings, and when he met her again later and, finally, fell in love with her, she was already a married woman. The novel made a very strong impression on me even without that – the feelings and experiences of the characters were conveyed in such fitting words, each line was so full of emotion ... but the subject was so close to me at that very moment that the piece caused a real turmoil in my soul. I didn't know what to do, what to occupy myself with. My heart ached, all desires were gone and apathy set in, interrupted only by occasional flashes of anger. At one moment I no longer cared what Dick would write, then suddenly I wanted to scream and blow everything up, followed by indifference again. I wandered around the room, picking up various items, and putting them back. I tried to sleep.

It was some kind of heart inflammation.

It lasted until the late evening. Finally, an owl flew in with an answer. I untied the letter from its foot with trembling hands and slowly unfolded it.

"Dear Hermione," it said in familiar handwriting, "to be honest, I don't know what to say to you. You see, I haven't figured it out myself yet. Seriously... I just don't get it."

I reread those lines several times. Fury rose within me. I was really angry because he didn't dispel my doubts. Moreover, now I opened my soul to him, and his remained closed to me.

But now I wanted to take my words back, to somehow show him that this means nothing to me.

I replied to him that I didn't need his answers, and he should forget about what I wrote in the morning at all. I even had an idea to tell him that my previous letter was caused by the food-poisoning, but this seemed to be a too far-fetched excuse.

Half an hour later, an answer came in with Dick expressing his hope that we will still remain to be friends.

"Of course," I answered, "we will." For some reason, my face was burning, and tears of insult rolled down my cheeks.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

26th of October, Monday:

The next day, at Professor Veans's lecture, I was sitting next to Claudia and I really wanted to share with her everything that happened between Dick and me. I wanted to show her that I was right and that if I am to die an old maid, it wouldn't be through my own fault. And also... Perhaps for the first time in my life, I wanted a 'girl talk'. However, I still doubted whether it was worth to give in to my desire. Especially since it would be completely wrong to talk in the Poisons class. But then Claudia, in her innate intuition, understood that I wanted to have a word with her. She drew a clean sheet of parchment from her bag and wrote:

"What did you do yesterday?"

"I corresponded with Dick," I replied.

"Again? And what was it about this time?" Claudia inquired, and I told her.

Told her with as much acrimony as possible so that she could decide that it meant absolutely nothing to me, that it was only a temporary clouding of judgment on my part. Just a good joke to laugh at a couple of months later.

Having added the last sentence, I wanted to pass the parchment to Claudia, but then, as in a nightmare, a voice spoke right next to my left ear:

"Look how diligently Miss Granger takes her notes. You all should follow her example."

Without raising my head, as I didn't want to lock eyes with Professor Veans, I tried to quickly hide the sheet under the parchments on which I wrote the lecture notes, but the teacher turned out to be more nimble than me.

"You have no right to!" I exclaimed, intending to snatch the parchment with my confession from him.

But Veans has already folded it in four and hid it in his pocket.

"Do you want me to remind you what _you_ have no right to do? Maybe we should talk about how you broke into my house?" he said mockingly.

I pursed my lips and shook my head.

Veans resumed the lecture. After the class, I approached his desk even before he managed to ask me to stay behind.

"Professor Veans, forgive me for writing something other than lecture notes in your class, but still, please, give me my note back."

But the teacher pulled a parchment from his pocket and unfolded it, his eyes glued to the text.

"Well, well, let's first see what was more important than the five ways of saving a person from the Mare's Dream Poison..."

And he began to read, moving his lips slightly and looking surprised or derisive at some parts. In the first few seconds, I was ready to die of shame, but then the anger previously engendered by Dick took over my embarrassment. However, this feeling also disappeared when Veans raised his completely emotionless eyes and said:

"Well, Miss Granger," he handed me the parchment, "you should think about your priorities. And I wanted to remind you that we have a meeting on Thursday. Try not to be late, and from now on pay attention to what I'm saying. Anything extraneous must remain outside the lecture hall and laboratory. Is that clear, miss?"

"Yes, sir," I replied impassively.

When I was almost out of the auditorium, I heard his voice once again:

"And, Miss Granger, advice for the future – a woman should never take the first step. Men are hunters and easy prey is less appealing."

I didn't answer and went out into the corridor.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

31st of October, Saturday:

The week was spent in studying, completing some important tasks and running errands, and Saturday was long-awaited and desired. Mostly because I was going to meet Dick for the first time since that letter.

When we made it to the Quidditch field, there were already quite a few spectators, and even more were to come later. The match against the team of Salem was very important because those were Salemites who our team had been losing to before that for two years in a row. Of course, the team of the Thrice-Ninth University from Russia was also a strong opponent, but the position of Stonehenge in the tournament table of the Championship of Magic Universities was mainly determined by today's match.

We went to our usual places and sat as the last time: Claudia to my left and Emile to my right. Even I was a bit excited – despite the fact that Quidditch, as a sport, was of equal importance to me as the internal politics of New Zealand, the honour of the university was a completely different matter.

While we were waiting for the match to begin, Claudia started the usual girlish talk. She was sharing yet another bit of gossip when she suddenly exclaimed:

"Oh, and that dude was talking to Veans today! Maybe they studied together? Then it means Veans did go to Salem, just as I thought."

Having caught the name of the teacher, I turned my attention to my friend's chatter.

"And what makes you think that the professor was studying in the US, and not here?" I asked.

"Hermione!" Claudia said indignantly and continued, gesticulating energetically. "I did tell you that I asked Dad about him, and he said that Veans didn't study at Stonehenge. But where he did, Dad didn't tell me, because it was 'none of my business'. And then I decided that it could only be Salem. For Ayahuasca he has too traditional an approach and traditional knowledge. Remember when the shamans from Peru visited us last year – Veans doesn't look like them at all, not a tiny bit. The same with Africa, I think that there are almost no whites whatsoever. And, well, they are also unique. What remains is either Salem or the Thrice-Ninth. But Veans speaks English so well, and the likelihood that he studied in America, and not in Russia, is much higher."

I listened attentively to Claudia's conclusions and answered:

"And you don't think he just could get home education? Like Gina, for example, or Kenneth? Only they got home school education, and he a university one."

"No, Hermione, you have to get a degree of Professor of Magic to work as a teacher. A wizard can be a Master – you don't need any documents for that, only a talent, but to be a Professor, you have to get a diploma from one of the five universities. Of course, you can learn everything yourself and just pass all the exams at the university. But imagine what a nightmare it would be! To pass all the exams at one time, learn it all just by yourself... Ewww."

I shrugged.

"For some, it's not that difficult," I replied. "Let alone for Professor Veans. He comes across as a very intelligent and multifaceted person."

Claudia fell silent for a while. Then she asked a question that made me angry and amused me at the same time:

"So you like him too?"

There was a triumph in her voice. I shook my head as if to say 'You are hopeless'.

"How long do you intend to ask the same questions?"

"As long as it takes to get an answer," Claudia retorted.

I sighed.

"He's a real professional," I said finally, "and his intellect cannot but amaze."

"Well, and as a man?"

"He's good-looking..."

"Aha!"

"...although, a little cheesy."

Claudia moved closer to me, inspired by the fact that we were finally discussing Professor Veans.

"Dick has a pretty face too!" she objected.

"He has more... refined features... But that's not the point, Claudia. Appearance, forgive me for the banality, doesn't matter. If I pay attention to this, then I'll have to settle for, well, Krips, for example. Only in this case will I be more beautiful than my boyfriend."

"Hermione!" Claudia exclaimed instantly. "How can you say that! You are my beauty!"

She hugged me tightly and I grimaced. Having stoically endured the hug, I continued.

"All of this, as I said, isn't important. The problem under discussion has two – no, even three – aspects. First, Professor Veans, for all his remarkable qualities, is a very difficult person. He's withdrawn, secretive, easily annoyed, sometimes even malicious. And very power-hungry."

"You just described yourself, 'Mione," Claudia replied playfully, for which I rewarded her with a stern look.

"As you should understand, such unflattering personal qualities cannot be attractive to a young girl without masochistic tendencies," I continued after a pause. "Secondly, in addition to respect and ordinary human sympathy, something more is needed for the possibility of romantic relationships. Some kind of impulse, a special feeling. It's necessary for me to experience... well, some unexplainable thrill."

"There is certainly no way to explain your thrill towards Dick," Claudia murmured, but I chose to ignore this jibe.

"And finally, in third place, this illusory sympathy of Professor Veans for me exists only in your imagination."

"Not just in mine!"

"Fine," I agreed easily, "not just in yours but also in the imagination of the similar gossip girls who have nothing more to do than to discuss random people."

Claudia twisted her face, not offended at all. After a short silence she said:

"Okay. But still, I didn't understand, do you like him or not?"

I just groaned, hugging my head with my hands.

Suddenly, someone called me from the upper deck. I looked over my shoulder to see who it was. Far behind and far above us, Marie sat with her friends. She waved her hand to me and through a pantomime showed that she was dragged to Quidditch despite all of her resistance. I smiled and almost turned back when I caught something out of the corner of my eye that made me freeze for a few seconds. I turned a little more to see Professor Veans sitting right behind me. He was looking into the distance with his hands set on his knees, and his back, as always, unnaturally straight. The next second, his gaze shifted abruptly to me and focused on my face. Green eyes caught mine captive for several painful moments and then released them. I returned to the normal position, staring at the field absentmindedly. Only one thought pulsed in my head: 'Did he hear what we were talking about?'.

After waiting for about a minute, so that if Veans was watching me, he wouldn't think that it was somehow connected to him, I leaned toward Claudia and whispered in her ear as quietly as possible:

"Just don't turn around. Professor Veans is sitting behind us."

Claudia's eyes widened in surprise for a moment. Then a frightened expression appeared on her face.

After that we exerted ourselves to have a casual conversation, trying to engage the silent Emile in it, but I saw that Claudia, just as me, was feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

The game turned out quite long, there was a close-fought battle. Veans, as I noticed, left in about an hour, or a little more, after the start, and Claudia and I were able to discuss our emotional upheaval.

Finally, the Salem Seeker caught the Snitch. The stands with supporters that arrived from America exploded with shouts and applause. Those from Stonehenge clapped flabbily, team members were leaving the field with mournful faces.

On the way to the café, I listened to Jason's reasoning that if the Thrice-Ninth's managed to beat the Salemites, and our team, in turn, was able to defeat the Thrice-Ninth, then we would still have a chance to win the championship. So, all was not lost.

However, the loss affected the guys' mood and the gathering in the cafe proved to be pretty boring. Even Kenneth, who today for the first time flew out on the field as part of a university team, almost didn't make any passes at me. He tried to stroke my knee, for which he received several painful blisters on the palms, and after that, he calmed down and settled for drowning his grief in Elf-ale.

Dick and I barely spoke, because he also was very upset, and I decided not to press him with questions. He didn't seem to ignore me and even addressed me personally several times, but the conversation didn't last.

However, I hoped that the situation would change at night – since it was Halloween.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

The night from the 31st of October to the 1st of November:

Claudia and I returned to the dormitories a couple of hours before the party, and after having argued a bit about who was going to the shower first, we started to get ready by primping, putting makeup on, and choosing attires.

I wasn't very creative about my choice of a costume. I was wearing a costume of a Muggle girl, which in the wizarding world looked quite natural on a Halloween. Loose jeans that were almost falling off upon walking and a simple white tank top projected a slightly careless image and were a novelty here. My favourite Etnies sneakers also were rarely seen trampling the grounds of Stonehenge University.

Claudia dressed up as Ileana Cosânzeana, a heroine of Romanian folklore, who, according to Claudia, was her distant ancestor. Generally speaking, Ileana had no distinctive features – just a beautiful Romanian girl. Except for her attire, that, as per the legend, was made of flowers but floral ornament was typical for the Romanian national costume whatsoever, so, after much thought, Claudia ended up just putting that on. The fact that it was precisely Ileana who she was portraying was later announced to anyone who had the misfortune to speak with my friend. To 'complement' her costume, she convinced Jason to personify a character from the fairy tales of her country – Făt-Frumos.

"Just like Prince Charming in your country," Claudia explained when I was examining Jason's white shirt girt with a wide dark belt and white trousers that were tucked into brown boots.

The club, where the party took place, boggled the imagination with its interior decoration. Everything that could be changed from everyday into festive was changed. All that could be renamed – renamed.

At first, we all were in high spirits. And even the fact that Dick wasn't with us upset me much less than it could. Especially since I knew that he was supposed to come later.

For a long time, I hung out with Emile. He wasn't too talkative, which was very appealing to me, and very polite and courteous, which was doubly pleasant. But soon I began to get bored. We danced a little, drank a little, chatted a little. But that was the end of the list of activities that could entertain us. After wandering around the club for a while, I told everyone that I was going to the dormitories because I really wanted to sleep. It seemed as if someone volunteered to accompany me, but I refused, rather tired of a noisy company. I wanted peace and solitude.

However, my plans changed somewhat, when, instead of going to Flamel's College, I went for a walk to Professors' garden and met Professor Veans there.

I greeted him happily and received a dry greeting in return.

"Are you going to the club?" I asked, making a U-turn to walk next to the professor.

"No. Of course, I'm not," Veans replied in a tone of 'what I could possibly do in that hole?'.

"I was there, but I got bored," I said, surprised at my own talkativeness. "It appears that all these corporate parties aren't actually my thing."

"In that case, why are you torturing yourself and continuing to attend them?" Veans asked, obviously keeping up the conversation only out of politeness.

"Oh, well, sometimes you need to add some diversity to life. Also, it's very disappointing the next day to listen to the stories about how fun it was and to feel like the sore loser. You know, despite my unsociableness, I don't like being an outsider."

"I believe you are talking yourself down by calling yourself unsociable," the professor said with sarcastic notes in his voice.

"No, actually I'm really... it's unusual for me... but where, sorry for the indiscreet question, are you going?"

The professor turned his head slightly and looked at me questioningly. A calculating look – and he decided that this time he would condescend to answer after all.

"The Floo Hall."

"You are leaving?" I asked in surprise. "For long?"

"No, Miss Granger," Veans replied, no longer hiding his irritation. "For a Sunday."

"Oh, sorry, sir. I really am inexcusably curious. Would you let me see you to the Floo Hall?"

"What's that for?"

"I'm having a walk all the same. And this way it will have a goal."

Veans frowned.

"At such a late hour, you shouldn't be wandering around alone at all. You better go to your college."

But I continued to walk alongside, keeping his pace.

"Don't worry, sir. I can stand up for myself. And what could possibly happen to me here at Stonehenge, anyway?"

"Anything, Miss Granger. Anything."

We had already rounded Raido College and were walking along a dark alley leading to the city. The professor was getting gloomier and gloomier each minute and seemed nervous, constantly glancing at the clock on the Old Tower. Suddenly, Veans stopped.

"Am I unclear to you? Go to the dormitories. I don't need an escort."

I was a little confused. A few minutes ago, it seemed to me that he had nothing against my company, although he was artificially rude and indifferent. But now I saw that he really wanted me to leave. It hurt me a little. It's always unpleasant to feel that your presence is unwelcome. Head down, I murmured, "I beg your pardon, sir", and went in the opposite direction to the Professors' garden.

As I returned to my favourite place for walks, I got lost in thought about the absence of at least a bit of feminine charm in me, and, having let my guard down, didn't notice the danger awaiting me.

Suddenly, I heard a rustle and pulled out my wand in an instant, but the very next moment it slipped out of my hands and flew off somewhere into the bushes. A second later people in hoods materialized around me as if from the darkness of the night. There were about seven of them, but I barely had time to see them, because with the next spell I was turned upside down and the cloak that I put on over the 'Muggle costume' rode up, obscuring my view. However, I could hear them. They didn't talk but moved around me. Without much hope, I tried to scream but, just as I thought, the silencing charm was cast on me. Finally, a low male voice said solemnly:

"My brethren, we have gathered here in order to conduct a trial on this Mudblood witch!"

I groaned mentally. Yet more fighters for the purity of blood. Voldemort died, many Death Eaters were dead or were serving time in Azkaban, but their ideas seemed to be imperishable. After the war, the pure-blood zealots behaved quietly for a long time, but every now and again there were some reports of crimes committed on the grounds of hatred of Muggle-born wizards and witches. And now I was to be the victim of these madmen. And where? In Stonehenge!

I tried to figure out what to do, how to escape because I didn't know what these 'brethren' were really up to. Truth be told, I was scared. The horrors of the war were still vivid in my memory, and I knew what pure-bloods were capable of when defending their principles. And these clowns, for the most part, were pursuing not the purity of magical blood, but the 'romance' of this struggle. They had neither a strong core nor a really strong leader – just students who thought it was a good idea to 'punish' some Mudblood. And now they acted like a flock, a collective mind capable of many atrocities. And when they finally realized what problems they may have if the university management learned about their lovely entertainment, any danger of disclosure will be able to push them to a terrible step.

While I was thinking that, the same voice said:

"Punishers! This dirty parody of the witch deserves the harshest treatment. She discredits the name of the Wizards! She must understand that she doesn't deserve to lay a foot on the grounds of our University! So let each of you apply the curse that you have prepared for her, and force her to realize what a mistake she made when she had appeared in the magical world!"

I tensed. I was afraid, and I really wanted someone to help me. I began to scream, hoping that the silencing charm would fail, but no sound was coming from my mouth. However, I continued to try, also because it appeared I felt a little better this way. My fear was coming out together with the air out of my lungs.

The first curse was applied to me. I felt hot, and gradually the temperature began to rise. My whole body was covered with sweat, and it became more and more unbearable. When I started to think that I would be cooked or burned alive and tears flowed from my eyes, I began to twitch and heard a burst of laughter.

Suddenly it was all over. I felt the autumn wind again, and I got very cold. I trembled.

"Next!" the one in the lead shouted.

I felt pain again – dull, gnawing, hitting the whole body. I tried not to think about what was happening, I tried to let my mind wander, but it was impossible.

The third 'Punisher' was more inventive than the first ones. He applied the Tickling Curse. I laughed against my will, beginning to squirm, but soon the hysterical laughter turned into silent sobs. When it already seemed to me that I was losing my mind, everything stopped.

The same thoughts pulsed in my head: 'When will it end? Please let it end! Please!'. And my pleas were heard. The last thing I heard before my body was gently lowered to the ground and I lost consciousness, was the wrathful voice of Professor Veans.

* Hermione was reading "Eugene Onegin" by Russian poet Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin. This novel is considered a classic of Russian literature.

** The name of the university is a reference to the 'Thrice-Ninth Kingdom' in Russian folklore, English analogue is a 'Faraway Kingdom'.

* * *

T/N: Thank you for staying with this story so far! If you have a few spare minutes, please, write a review, I (as well as the author) would be very glad to hear your opinions. Any feedback encourages me to continue!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my superb beta, PensievePrince. I wouldn't be able to do it without you.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 6**

" _A true friend is the one who holds your hand and touches your heart."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

1st of November, Sunday:

I woke up in the hospital. I'd been here once before when Claudia and I visited Jason, who had been injured during a fierce Quidditch match. My head ached, but in general, I felt relaxed and apathetic. As soon as my eyes opened, several people bent over me in an instant. To my pleasant surprise, besides Claudia, I saw the faces of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Because of my physical weakness, I couldn't express my joy as vigorously as I wanted, but the greeting turned out warm and made me feel better.

The guys didn't question me right away about what happened, for which I was very grateful. What happened seemed like a terrible dream, and I didn't want to remember anything. It could wait until I could think about it with a cold head and a calm heart.

A Healer approached me and gave me a Replenishing Potion. I immediately felt an energy surge. I had no physical injuries, and all my weakness was from excessive agitation and psychological fatigue. But friends and potions changed the situation. The Healer told me that I needed to lie in bed a little more, but I didn't want to loaf around in the hospital when I had guests. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had been to my university only twice before, and I wanted to take a walk with them in the Professors' garden and once again show them the place I currently called my home. Therefore, I told them that I now lacked only one potion – coffee from the Chocolate Frog Café, and that was where we should go. Of course, they were exasperated, but when I assured them that, as a probable future Healer, I could state the patient's condition as satisfactory and allowing travelling over long distances without assistance, they surrendered. So, after waiting for the Healer to disappear into the back room, I, Claudia, Harry, Ron, and Ginny made our escape from the hospital and went for a walk.

First, due to my mentioning that I needed fresh air, we went to the Professors' garden. It was there that the first serious thoughts about what happened overtook me. It occurred when I noticed that I unconsciously had tried to avoid the paths leading to the place where I was attacked. And despite the fact that both the guys and I deliberately avoided conversations about the incident – I asked them to as soon as we left the hospital – my memory obligingly recalled the flashbacks of the previous night.

Finally, Harry carefully asked where everything had happened. I explained.

"Do you have any idea who it could have been?" he continued.

"I'm sure they were students," I replied, realizing that I should forget about my wish to carelessly stroll among half-naked trees down the paths covered with dry brown leaves.

"What makes you think that?" Harry asked, his tone was getting more and more professional.

Ginny didn't like that, and she addressed him sternly:

"Harry, can't your questioning wait? Hermione hasn't recovered yet."

"It's okay, really," I assured her.

"She'll still need to answer the same questions anyway," said Ron. "And she better be prepared for them, right, Hermione?"

"Yes, sure. I think that they were students because of what they said: that I would regret my feet had touched the grounds of their university and everything like that. They could be either teachers or students. But the majority of teachers here are women and elderly people. Women are excluded because their leader addressed them as 'brethren', and... and I simply don't believe that professors could do such a thing. Everything was so childishly ill-conceived, as if spontaneous and unserious. I don't know, I just think that teachers could choose another way of expressing discontent over my blood."

But Harry had objections to that.

"If one of the professors openly expressed his negative attitude towards Muggle-borns, he would risk losing his job. And gathering like-minded people around oneself and attacking a defenseless witch is a good way to express a public stance without the danger of facing the consequences. But don't worry, I'm not going to let it pass."

"Me neither!" Ron seconded him.

"Guys, you shouldn't take it to heart," I replied. "I think the University administration is already informed about what happened and the perpetrators will be found."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Claudia stated. "Similar incidents have happened already. Remember, two years ago someone attacked Erich, from Cassiopeia College? You know, I showed him to you, he was also seeing that girl, the cousin of Jason's ex-girlfriend."

I rolled my eyes. Of course, I didn't remember him.

"Never mind. Bottom line, the attackers couldn't be found. Also, when we were freshers, two guys tried to rape a third-year girl from our college, but she was able to escape. Later she said that she even found out who they were, but didn't say anything to the dean or anyone else, and those bastards went unpunished."

"And what does the latter case have to do with me?" I asked.

"It's just that, naturally, word leaked out to the professors too, but no one wanted to do anything. The administration decided to put a blind eye since the girl was quiet; because why would they need such a fly in the ointment to ruin their reputation? Dad said that the rector ordered everyone to forget about what had happened, motivating it with the fact that these were students' internal squabbles, and, he said, there is no need to meddle in their affairs."

The conversation continued in a similar vein until Claudia declared that in my case, however, there were some differences.

"Since Professor Veans is involved in the matter..." she said meaningfully. "There's no way he will just let it go."

"Veans? Is that the one who told you about the attack?" Harry asked Claudia seriously and she nodded affirmatively. "And who is he anyway?"

"I once told you about him," I replied, "our new Poisons teacher. As far as I can gather, he saved me. I should talk to him on Monday, thank him... So he told you everything? How is he? What happened after I lost consciousness?" I turned to Claudia.

"I was looking for you that night – and met him. He was near the club and was searching for me. He said that you were attacked but when he shot a couple of spells at the scoundrels, they scattered instantly, and while he checked whether you were alright, they had already disappeared. He carried you to the hospital and found me. I got in touch with Ginny, and when the guys arrived here, we came to you."

"So, that means he saw the attackers," said Harry thoughtfully...

"He's in love with Hermione!" Claudia blurted out, obviously out of strength to keep it to herself.

Ron and Harry looked at my friend with interest, and Ginny asked her for details with unconcealed curiosity. But I wasn't going to allow these fabrications to reach the ears of my friends.

"He isn't in love with me, this is just Claudia's speculation," I said.

But everyone just waved my words aside and instead listened to Claudia painting in glaring colors every bit of my life that was at least indirectly related to Professor Veans.

"He's clearly interested in you," Ginny agreed with Claudia's arguments.

"No wonder," Ron declared, "Hermione's the most beautiful girl in this university."

After that, he glanced at Claudia, turned red, and added:

"...though you're nice too, Claudia. I mean…"

"Ron," I said, laughing, "everyone got what you meant. Thank you."

Having walked a little more, we decided to go for a coffee, not at the Chocolate Frog, but in a café in the city. On our way there we met Dick near Triffany College. I was quite surprised, but it was mostly Claudia who spoke to him, so I managed to hide my confusion.

My friend briefly – as far as this word could be applied to Claudia's speeches – told him about what happened to me. Dick expressed his extreme outrage and sympathy and said that this case won't be left unsolved. Claudia invited him with us to the café, but he refused, citing that we had our 'own gang', and he didn't want to disturb us. And besides, he had plenty of things to be done before Monday.

When we arrived at the café, and the guys went to make an order, Ginny said with a sly smile:

"This Dick isn't bad..."

I shushed at her – I didn't want such careless statements to give Claudia a theme for long and tedious ranting and daisy-playing 'he loves me – he loves me not'.

"Dick is a little goblin when compared to Veans," Claudia stated confidently. "And besides, Hermione is in great demand here. There's also one cute Frenchy in love with her. True, he's terribly timid, but still waters..."

I rolled my eyes but Ginny got interested in this subject, and she began questioning Claudia about Emile.

"As soon as he met Hermione, he immediately invited himself to go with us to all Quidditch matches," my irrepressible friend said, "and didn't miss a single gathering at the café. In fact, he follows 'Mione – sorry, Hermione - everywhere like a dog. And even she herself agrees with my opinion and believes that Emile likes her. If only she was as compliant when it comes to Veans or even Dick! Well, of course, I think that Emile doesn't suit her at all, but that doesn't matter! Male attention is always a pleasure if it doesn't pass all bounds by being obtrusive or boorish. And Hermione has plenty of choices! So don't worry about her, we'll find her a good match as long as she doesn't resist too much! Then we'll both find her a fiancé and marry her off."

Claudia chirped and chirped, smiling happily, and it seemed that nothing could shut her up. But finally, Ginny seized a moment and said:

"By the way, Hermione, I wanted to ask you for a long time..." and, after a pause, not knowing how to better express herself, she blurted out, "would you mind being my bridesmaid?"

I looked at my friend in surprise.

"You... have you and Harry finally decided to get married?" I asked gleefully.

"No!" Ginny exclaimed. "What does Harry have to do with this? My fiancé is Kreacher. After all, he works in our house at Grimmauld Place. We so often ran into one another in the kitchen or in the living room when he cleaned up there that eventually we realized that we couldn't live without each other. Of course, Harry is a noticeable obstacle on the way to our happiness, but we'll work something out."

Claudia laughed. I forced a smile.

"Very funny. So when is the happy event?"

"Kreacher wants it to be a Friday..."

"Ginny!"

"Okay, okay. We decided that it's better be in summer."

"But that's so far away!" Claudia exclaimed.

Ginny nodded in agreement but answered:

"But this way we'll have enough time to prepare everything and the wedding will be perfect. And besides, there's no rush, is there? We already live together anyway. In short, Hermione, do you agree to be my bridesmaid?"

"Of course," I answered.

"In that case, brace yourself. Soon we'll need to start looking for dresses for you and me."

I groaned in despair. I _hate_ dress shopping.

We spent at least three hours in the café. By the end of our get-together, we'd even reached the special menu entries, such as Chocolate Shock or the Spikey Cocktail 'Scream', which I had never dared try before.

But finally, we've decided to change location. The next leg of our walk was to the movie theatre – as I said, Ginny was a big fan of Muggle cinema and did her best to convince us to go to a new film.

Half an hour of argument about which movie to choose brightened up the waiting for the show time. Finally, in a way incomprehensible to me, we chose a cartoon about fish.

A cartoon!

About fish!

Only the unwillingness to continue the argument and the obvious desire of my friends to see something under the oh-so-original-name 'Finding Nemo' made me buy the tickets and enter the hall.

All the verdicts turned out different. Ginny found the cartoon 'pretty funny', Claudia was thrilled to bits, most often recalling 'that funny blue fish that forgot everything', and Ron and Harry had a serious conversation about the animation, as well as what were other possible ways for the little orange fish to get out of the aquarium.

As for me, I almost fell asleep at the show. But as soon as I mentioned this, everyone attacked me with absurd accusations of being a killjoy. I gave up. If they liked a production that was aimed at ten-year-olds – then who was I to judge?

Suddenly, the discussion of the viewed movie ceased, because Claudia began to whisper quite loudly:

"That's Professor Veans! Look, that's Professor Veans, the one who saved Hermione!"

"Stop pointing your finger at him," I hissed, watching our Poisons teacher exit the Floo Hall.

And it was easy to follow up the trajectory of his path and figure out that he would catch up with us soon.

"Hello, sir," I said, when the professor, who seemed to deliberately pretend not to notice our small group, came close enough.

"Oh, Miss Granger," the professor said in a tone that lacked any joy, but still a familiar unnatural polite half-smile appeared on his lips, "Miss Marinescu."

"Professor Veans, I'd like to thank you for..." I flushed involuntarily, "for saving me."

"Not at all," Veans said, and then added more amiably, "It was a sheer pleasure for me..."

My eyes rounded at the sight of the grinning man.

"I meant saving you, of course," he continued, "and not watching those hooded freaks torment you."

It didn't sound too sincere, but I decided that it wouldn't be nice to nag the person who helped you.

"So you saw the attackers?" Harry asked in a businesslike tone. "Forgive me, Harry Potter," he introduced himself and nodded briefly. "I'm Hermione's friend and we..."

"The very same Harry Potter?" Veans drawled out in an unctuous voice, and I exchanged amazed glances with Claudia. "What an honour for me."

Harry shrank away. He never learned how to endure such manifestations of public recognition for his legendary reputation, and when the words sounded so insincere, it was doubly embarrassing. However, I wasn't sure he noticed the falseness, because he was lucky to encounter the professor much less frequently than Claudia or me.

"There's no need, sir," Harry replied composedly and repeated his question.

"Yes, I saw them," the professor said, returning to a serious tone. "I told everything to Miss Granger's dean, Professor Pitch, and Rector Newman. An incident investigation commission will be appointed, and, certainly, I'll repeat my testimony if necessary."

"Will the commission be independent?" Harry asked.

Veans glanced at my friend with an unreadable expression on his face, and after a few moments of silence, finally answered:

"I'm afraid not."

Harry pursed his lips discontentedly.

"That's unfair!" Ron exclaimed.

"Fairness wasn't the key factor when choosing a solution to this problem," Professor Veans said calmly, "Mr...?"

"Weasley. Ronald Weasley."

"We could demand..." Harry began after a second of reflection.

"I advise against it," Veans interrupted him immediately. "Rector Newman is venerated here as the almighty lord. And some of his wards are children of very important people."

"But we can't just let them go unpunished," Ron said indignantly, "they hurt Hermione and must be punished."

"Everyone will be punished sooner or later," Professor Veans said philosophically, and, clearly intending to finish the conversation, he concluded, "but there's no need to stir up a hornets' nest, Mr. Weasley. Have a nice day."

With these words, he left. We muttered our goodbyes discordantly.

Ron was the first to give an opinion about our teacher:

"What a weirdo," his sentence was.

"Not weird, just sensible and discreet," Harry retorted, "though not without... his own rats in the attic."

"But he's sooooo handsome..." Ginny drawled and was immediately joined by Claudia, who began to comment on every feature of the man's face, every curve of his lips or nose, 'amazing' eye shape and 'incredible silk-like hair'.

I remained silent, not wanting to keep up the conversation on this subject. However, it wasn't as if this brief conversation with the professor didn't leave any impression. I was surprised that Veans didn't even inquire how I was feeling, but at the same time tried to feign hypocritical courtesy, which confused me. It's been a long time since he last has made those attempts that always ended with his total fiasco. I got used to the cold, reserved and sometimes a bit rude Professor Veans, I even felt respect and some semblance of sympathy for him as for an interesting person, but all his oddities and pretenses made me believe that I know this teacher even less than I think I do.

"And he seems to really have a crush on 'Mione," Ron said, summing it all up.

"Dunno, dunno," Harry drawled but then righted himself, "I didn't mean it like that! Of course, he could like you, but... if it's true, in my opinion, he's very secretive about it."

"Why?" Ginny wondered.

"Cause... well... well, for example, he didn't even ask how she's feeling. And on the whole... Well, let's go already. What's next in our plan?"

──────── • ✤ • ────────

15th of November, Monday:

Professor Veans, as well as Harry, was right – the incident with the attack was tried to hush up as best as was possible. There were rumours that it all was just a joke, and even that I made up the story myself in order to attract public attention. At such moments of my life, I just try to get up to my neck in the studying.

For two weeks I worked hard, not sparing myself. In the study-free time – which turned out to be little – I continued to prepare the conference, marvelling at Emile's restrained activity. 'Restrained' because he never shouted something like 'Can I do this? Can I?' and then 'Look what I did!' as was the case with some. 'Activity' because, despite being taciturn and continent, he did everything that was asked of him, and even more. And I was very grateful to him for that.

Professor Pitch didn't burden me with excessive attention to my – our – project, but I found it necessary to sometimes come to her after the class and talk about how things were progressing. In gratitude for these courtesies, which were received with indulgent latitude, Professor Pitch gave me a full account of her daughter's strides.

"Oh, that's just what I talked about with Nerida today," she said to my comment about the cold drawing nearer, "although they have a completely different climate in America than ours. I told her that, Nerida, how wonderful it is that you were invited to the University of Salem because it's so much warmer there than here. She, of course, agreed. Conditions there are excellent. Although, this house, that was provided her for a living, isn't so big in my opinion. Only four bedrooms! However, she lives alone as of now and it sits well with her. She's quite modest, my girl. Not one of those who only dream about a luxury house and expensive furniture. No, no, she's ready to be satisfied with little... But she simply isn't allowed to do so very much! Imagine, Miss Granger, three days ago, a famous young professor presented her a necklace with a Veela's tear! It must be worth a hundred thousand galleons. Nerida, I told her, this is a gift from a decent man..."

I looked at the tepid tea miserably. I admitted that Nerida Pitch might actually be a wonderful person, but I had to listen about her from her mother so often that it drove me crazy and made me hate the poor girl.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

17th of November, Wednesday:

On Wednesday evening, when I was sitting in Professor Pitch's living room and listened to yet another story about a 'talented and modest girl', my dean contributed to the progress of my research without any intention of doing so.

"Two suitors, no less. She's naturally at a loss. Of course, how can anyone choose when such men court you at the same time? I told you about them, Mr. Wilbert and Professor Abendroth."

"Yes, yes, of course. I remember them perfectly. As if I'm personally acquainted," I replied, amplifying the meaning of my words with a pair of nods.

"However, Nerida has already been in such a situation. She was a third-year student at this very university back then. And a young man wrote the diploma under my guidance. Very talented. By the way, he had worked on the Polyjuice Potion, just as you. As far as I remember, he managed to extend its duration for some insignificant amount of time," here she waved her hand as if brushing away an extraneous topic, "it doesn't matter. He met Nerida when coming to me for a cup of tea like you do. And my girl is a rare beauty, no one can just walk on by her. He, of course, fell in love, began to court her, brought flowers. But he didn't know that another person was already showing affection to my girl – much older than Nerida, but v-very presentable. He worked at our research centre. At one time even was in charge of it. Now he's retired already ... Things didn't work out for the two of them, because my girl is very exacting. She places very heavy demands on her admirers."

"I have no doubt her husband will be the most worthy of men," I answered politely. "Pardon me, but how did you say was the name of that young man? Well, who worked on the Polyjuice Potion."

"Ah, Snake. Fitzgerald Snake."

──────── • ✤ • ────────

18th of November, Thursday:

The next day I went to the dean's office to find out if it was possible to somehow get access to Mr. Snake's thesis. It turned out that for this purpose I just needed to gain entry to the archive and find a cell with the name of a former student. But the problem was that only the teachers had admittance to the archive.

Considering that Professor Pitch was unlikely to help me, I decided to turn to Professor Veans. And it was the opportune time for that – we had an appointment on Thursday to work in the laboratory.

I came there at the usual time, but the password I uttered didn't open the door. The professor wasn't around either. I've waited for him for half an hour and then decided to go look for him at his house. However, remembering the incident with my last visit, I was firmly determined to leave if no one opened.

But as soon as I knocked on the wooden door only twice, it swung open and Professor Veans appeared before me in all his glory. Literally. He was wearing black dress robes; a white shirt with a band-collar and a black silk steenkirk peeking out from under it. The blond hair was neatly combed back and a haughty smirk played across his face, giving out his absolute awareness of his own attractiveness. For Veans, that was something new.

I said hello, babbled apologies and explained the reason and the purpose of my visit. The latter was said already in the hallway, where the professor pulled me by my cloak.

"I ask you to forgive me. I had plans for tonight but I was quite sure I informed you about that. Yes, Mr. McPherson should have told you about the cancellation of our studies in the laboratory."

I shook my head negatively.

Terrrry...

"Well, if you are busy, I can leave..." I said, embarrassed.

"Yes, perhaps it would be best if you do so. I apologize again."

Here there was a knock at the front door. Veans threw a displeased look at me and opened it. A woman in her thirties stood there, her short gingery-chestnut hair gleaming in the dull November sun, making her eyes of the autumn grass colour more prominent. That was a teacher from Triffany College, but I didn't know her name.

Now it all became clear – Professor Veans had a date coming up. For a moment a thought flashed through my mind: 'But she's about ten years older than him!', and it sounded in Claudia's voice. Feeling extremely awkward, I tried to say goodbye and leave. But the woman made me stop in my tracks by saying:

"Perseus, I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight. I need to Apparate to my mother urgently..."

"Yes, I remember, your sick mother," Veans answered dryly, and I could feel it in my bones, how uncomfortable he was that I was watching this scene.

"Sorry. But next time, certainly..."

"Of course."

"I decided it was better to say it in person..."

"Much obliged."

"Seriously, I'm sorry..."

"Your mother must be tired of waiting," Veans reminded her impassively, and having closed the door, added without addressing anyone, "she could die twenty times while you bow and scrape here."

I chuckled, and the professor, attracted by the sound, fixed his eyes on me. Laughter immediately disappeared somewhere, leaving a slight fright and agitation in its place.

Professor meticulously looked me up and down.

"I have tickets going to waste," he declared in such a tone as if it was my fault.

"Err, I'm sorry, sir," I replied perplexedly.

"Don't pretend you don't understand," he demanded.

But I really didn't understand. What did this man want from me? What I was supposed to do with his tickets? Buy them from him?

"Oh, well, of course," the professor muttered discontentedly and then said in a feigningly courteous tone, "Miss Granger, as follows from the scene of which you have become an involuntary witness, I'm the happy owner of a spare ticket to a concert of classical music. Would you give me such an honour, and keep me company on this dreary evening? Violin and dinner in the restaurant will be our accompaniment."

Do I need to say how surprised I was?

"It's somehow... inconvenient... I'm very flattered, but..."

"Enough," the professor interrupted me, "if you don't want to go, just say so."

For a few lingering seconds, I was considering the proposal, weighing up all the pros and cons, and finally said uncertainly:

"But I'm not ready to go to the concert. My cloak..."

"Use the wand. Your magic will surely last for two or three hours. You are a talented student after all."

The word 'talented' was uttered not without causticity. I got a little angry and decided that all in all, I didn't impose on the invitation, and if I get little pleasure from this evening, it will only be his fault. Professor Veans's fault.

Having hidden in the lavatory on the first floor, I gave my robes a more dressy look and gathered my hair up. After freshening up my makeup, I finally walked out to the professor, who was waiting for me in the corridor with a displeased look on his face.

On the way to the city, we discussed the possibility of finding a diploma paper of another student and the necessity of it. In short, the professor didn't argue that it might be useful, but he asked me not to place too high hopes on it. After all, Snake was just an ordinary student like me.

It was my first time in the Concert Hall of Stonehenge, and the place immediately struck me with its magnificence and luxurious decoration. I was as if in a palace. The combination of dark red velvet and gold reminded me of my native house's living room at Hogwarts.

"The rich Gryffindor's mansion," I said softly.

"Gryffindors are never rich," Professor Veans retorted.

I looked at him in surprise.

"Too much 'nobility'," with acrid notes again, "to earn big money."

But that wasn't the reason for my amazement.

"You studied at Hogwarts?" I asked.

"No, I studied in America," my companion answered, "but I've met quite a few Gryffindors in my lifetime to form my own opinion about them."

"It seems to me that you have a prejudiced attitude... and you've probably met Slytherins just as often?"

"Of course."

"And you must have found much in common?"

"You are the owner of rare insight."

"You're too generous with compliments, sir," I replied to the professor in the same spirit. "I don't deserve that."

Veans chuckled:

"Do you accuse me of flattery?" he asked half-jokingly, half-angrily.

"No, no, sir, how could I! I wouldn't dare to offend you that way!" I answered theatrically. "I just wanted to say that I am flattered by your attention to my merits and the lack thereof to my demerits. After all, you almost never criticize me!"

"What an omission on my part... come, miss, here are our places."

I was pleasantly surprised to discover we were already in the loge. I was so engrossed in the conversation, that I didn't even notice where we were going.

The concert made an incredible impression on me. Violinists from different countries participated in it, and each seemed to be superior to the previous one in both technique and level of expression. Each performance left a mark on the soul and was imprinted in the memory. The five-year-old girl played Paganini's piece of immense complexity, twenty female violinists from Japan performed Mozart in unison, and a young Czech man played on three violins at the same time – with a help of the wand.

But to me, probably the most heartfelt performance was of an elderly violinist playing a composition of his own. When he first came on the stage, he reminded me of a subway beggar, who was provided with a clean robe and a bow tie. Disheveled grey hair, white matted beard, sad light blue eyes, and a very old violin. I watched with interest as he prepared for the performance, how he closed his eyes as if absorbing the energy of the audience directed at him. Then his hand shot up, the bow touched the strings and extracted from them the most beautiful in its sorrow sound in the world. The melody flowed, penetrating the soul and evoking the brightest memories, causing the heart to clench from longing for the past and the people gone. Unable to contain my emotions, I let the tears fall. They ran, crystal clear and not shameful, the music merged with my feelings, and now the melody sounded not from the stage, but from my heart.

It took me some time to notice that the old man stopped playing, bowed and slowly left the stage. The feeling that I was alone in this huge hall had disappeared, and it was as if I woke up from a dream. The others woke too. Suddenly there was a storm of applause. People rose from their seats, continuing to clap, and I couldn't help but support them in this expression of gratitude.

Then I looked at Professor Veans. His face was impenetrable, and his gaze was fixed on infinity. But I'm sure that his inner eye was turned to the past, to the memories.

When the concert came to its end, we descended to the first floor of the Concert Hall and walked to the restaurant, as the professor had promised. I tried to hint that I wouldn't be offended at all if he changed his mind about dining with me, but he replied in his usual short manner that if he wanted me to leave, he would certainly let me know about it.

The dinner came out quite enjoyable. We had a chance to discuss the academic affairs, the decoration of the hall where the concert took place, talk about the technique which the guests from the east performed with – we tried not to bring up more touching numbers in our discussions – and also to speak of our shared love for Nerida Pitch and, finally, complain about the unpleasant weather, which offered either a drizzle, an icy wind, or the sky covered with heavy clouds.

However, when the professor was already seeing me to the building of my college, I couldn't help asking a question that plagued me the whole evening.

"Sir..." I said and paused, not knowing how best to raise the question.

"Ask, Miss Granger," the professor urged me, "if I find the question offensive, I just won't answer it."

"What did _you_ remember when the old violinist played?"

The professor was silent for a while.

"Nothing in particular."

"And to me, it seemed to be like something that I had heard a long time ago, as a child, but I couldn't remember where and when. And that made me sad. I remembered my parents, home, something like that..."

"This is because your brightest memories come from your childhood," Veans explained.

I shrugged, not agreeing but not denying it either.

"And yours?" I asked, surprised at my own courage and curiosity.

"And mine don't."

It became obvious to me that the professor didn't want to talk about it and I immediately changed the subject.

Later, when I thanked Veans and said good-bye to him, laid out everything that happened to Claudia and lay down in bed, I thought that compared to the professor, even I seem to be a curious tactless chatterbox as open as the day.

* * *

T/N: Thank you for your wonderful reviews and for staying with the story. This means a lot to me and inspires me! Hope you like the story and leave a review!


	7. Chapter 7

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my superb beta, PensievePrince. I wouldn't be able to do it without you.

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 7**

" _Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

19th of November, Friday:

On Friday in Anatomy, while Professor Spaziani was explaining to us how the human stomach worked, Claudia, who utterly disliked the illustrations shown on these lectures, struggled to distract herself by something less, in her opinion, unpleasant. As I was quite familiar with her preferences and passions, it was no surprise to me when, suddenly on the parchment where I was writing the lecture notes, appeared a line in my friend's handwriting:

"How's Dick doing?"

I was anticipating this question, especially after the public appearance in the company of Claudia's much-loved Professor Veans, so I had the answer at the ready:

"I don't know. And I don't really care"

"How come?" I felt pretense even in the written form of the phrase.

I turned my head slightly and glanced at Claudia, bent over the parchment with a concentrated look, the tip of her quill running across her forehead. But looking closer, one could easily see that her full lips were twisted in slight mockery and her eyes were looking at the parchment eagerly, waiting to see my answer. And I decided not to torment my friend for too long.

"I realized that he doesn't like me and did my best to cope with my affections. Having applied a rational mind, I was able to forget him and now I absolutely don't care about Richard Montague"

"Sounds almost convincing"

"Why would I lie to you, Claudia?"

"I'm not afraid that you are lying to _me_ "

"A not so subtle hint. But you really shouldn't worry. Yes, of course, some feelings remain. But they are more like wounded pride and a bitterness at how unfair the world is"

"Unfair! Of course, it's unfair that you have a lot of suitors and still you fell in love with someone who 'hasn't figured it out himself'"

"You highlight the key points so skillfully. Thank you for so easily believing my words that nothing can deprive me of calm and also without ceremony reminding me of what situation I was in"

"Actually, there's something else that could help us check your indifference to Dick"

"I'm all ears"

"You sure?"

"I'm 'sure' that you want to tell me something. And I know nothing could stop you"

":-) Well, okay... When we had a match with the Salemites, one girl, Bella-Don't-Remember-Her-Surname, arrived here as a cheerleader. She was introduced to Dick and now they are in active correspondence. He likes her"

Having read it, I felt a sharp heartache but managed to keep an impassive face. Instead of wordy effusion of my inner turmoil, I wrote:

"How do you know that?"

"He told me himself. As a VERY BIG secret. I've already told Jason but haven't had a chance to tell you. But now that you're no longer in love with him, you can be entrusted with this secret too"

Another painful blow – Dick never shared anything with me. And here I thought that we were at least friends. But as it turned out, we weren't.

"Well, that's fascinating" was my answer and I was sure that Claudia was oblivious to the anguish she brought on me with this information that she was so eager to share.

After the lecture, I told Claudia that I needed to go to the utility room to sharpen my quill — I wasn't very good at it and often resorted to using a special semi-Muggle semi-magical device. Having got rid of the company of my friend, I hurried to some remote corner of the college to cry. When the tears of deep mortification dried up, calming me down a bit, I applied the necessary glamour charms – after all, I didn't need red eyes and a swollen nose to raise any questions – and headed to the Dining Hall.

After lunch, I had to meet with Professor Veans to go to the archive.

Since we had already agreed with him that we were meeting at the entrance to the Vault at six o'clock in the evening, I dined leisurely, dealt with some study business, caught up with Emile for a couple of minutes to hear his brief account of how the conference preparation was going, and then finally went to the archive.

Professor Veans was already there, reading a newspaper with his back leaning against the high stand. I nervously adjusted my hair and the collar of my shirt before he could notice me, and approached him in a brisk pace.

"I've already arranged everything," he threw me in place of a greeting.

With that, he gave a barely perceptible nod to the pale young man with thick glasses, who vigilantly kept watch over the archive entrance. I smiled with the corners of my lips, as a sign either of gratitude or approval, and we followed the long corridor to the small door at its very end.

However, no matter how far we went, the door wasn't getting any closer. The professor noticed that too, stopped, turned to me and asked:

"Miss Granger, you don't have your student ID with you?"

I answered negatively. It didn't occur to me that I might need it. Professor Veans wasn't pleased with my answer, and I offered to go back and fetch my ID.

"I can't spend the whole evening waiting for you to fetch everything you need."

"I can send an owl..." I tried to suggest, but the professor has already rushed back to the exit from the archive.

There he came to a halt at the stand.

"The lady doesn't have her ID on her, but we need to go to the archives together and right now," he informed the imperturbable young man.

The latter looked at me over his huge glasses and in his dull gray-green eyes I could clearly read 'what blatant irresponsibility and forgetfulness! Can I actually risk and allow this frivolous girl into the university's sancta sanctorum?' and then, intended for me personally 'As a matter of fact, I'm a king and a god here. If I want to, I'll let you in, if I don't, I won't'. I twisted my lips, not even trying to feel pity for this nondescript fellow, who was stuck in this god-forsaken place under a layer of dust and a pile of papers, and all he could do with his life was to pretend to be the master of the Vault.

The young man was gracious and allowed me to enter. He waved his wand in my direction, then in the direction of Professor Veans, and said:

"Hold hands."

I froze for a few moments. I've already mentioned my dislike for physical contact not initiated by me. And to touch someone, who wasn't even a friend of mine, was a real test. Professor Veans seemed to hesitate too, but then, without tenderness and delicacy, he grabbed my hand and dragged me down the corridor. While my hand was placed in his, I tried not to move even the tips of my fingers, but I felt that my palm was sweating with excitement and was ready to slip out of his strong fingers. I felt ashamed of such a reaction, albeit a natural one, and I hoped that he wouldn't notice anything. Perhaps, those were the most embarrassing few seconds in all the time of our acquaintance.

But finally, we entered a huge hall, whose ceiling disappeared somewhere in the dark very, very high above us, and the walls couldn't be seen because of the hundreds of tall shelves with small pull-out drawers. These shelves created a maze just like the Hampton Court one, and I had no idea how anything could be found there.

But Professor Veans pretty confidently made tracks for somewhere inward and a little to the left, and I tried to keep up. He glanced at the signboards and boldly walked forward. I only had time to spot here and there on our way chairs and small tables with green lamps on them.

Finally, the professor stopped. Having pointed with a lazy flourish to one of the shelves, he sat down on an ancient chair nearby and crossed his legs.

I looked at him, at his relaxed posture and expectative look, and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Come on, begin, what are you waiting for?" Veans inquired.

"Won't you help me, Professor?" I asked. "I'll have to search for eternity. And magic can't be used here..."

"I've already helped you – brought you here and showed you the shelf which to look up in. Isn't it too much you want from me? Moreover, I don't share your desire to study the work of this Snake. I'm convinced that it won't help us in any way."

I sighed and looked a little hopelessly at the huge cabinet, the sign above which read: 'SK-SN'. It meant that this huge shelf contained the documents of the former students, whose surnames began with either 'Sk', 'Sl', 'Sm' or 'Sn'. From hearsay, I knew that this was the last stage in which order was maintained. After that everything had to be searched manually, by looking through the files. There was no definite pattern in the arrangement of documents here, except that the newer ones were closer than the papers of, say, some Mr. Slow, who had studied at Stonehenge in the fourteenth century. The fact that it was this cabinet where documents of all Mr. Smiths, who had once attended the university, were kept, didn't help me at all. Pulling out drawer after drawer, I found there piles of rolled parchments, wrapped in a rope or ribbon, with the seal of the university. On the outside of each parchment was written the name of the person whose documents I was holding, and at least that made the search easier.

About forty minutes passed in a vain search. Meanwhile, the professor took a small volume out of his pocket and went deep into reading. I was so 'keen on' searching for the right surname that I didn't even bother to find out what exactly Veans was reading.

Several times I stumbled upon the surname Snake, but, having cried happily or having expressed my joy in any other way, I immediately realized disappointedly that this wasn't my Snake. On the fifth Snake, I stopped commenting on my findings. But here I again uttered a cry, and so many different emotions were mixed in it that Veans dragged his gaze from the yellowish pages and looked at me.

"Have you found it at last?" he inquired, almost without interest.

"Not really," I replied, devouring the letters on the parchment with my eyes.

"What do you mean, 'not really'?" the professor demanded, dissatisfied with my answer, got up and approached me to look at my finding.

"What's this?" he asked, perfectly seeing what it was. "You were supposed to look for Snake."

"Severus Snape," I said quietly and then added louder, "he was my teacher at school. He taught us Potions, sir."

With awe, I was holding in my hands the dossier of my former teacher, experiencing inexpressible feelings.

"Apparently, he was a good teacher, since you decided to follow in his footsteps," only cold politeness could be discerned in his assumption.

"Yes!" I answered heatedly, but then, embarrassed by my outburst, added, "truth be told, not everyone liked him. But he was a true master of his craft. Master of Potions, I mean. Not pedagogics."

"Well..." Veans paused for a moment and then said, "quit this nonsense and get back to work. You haven't got even through the half."

I bit my lip.

"Yes, of course, sir," I replied, and the professor returned to his chair.

However, I intended to first take a look at the file of my former teacher.

"What are you doing?" Veans asked, watching me unfold the parchment.

"I'm going to read Professor Snape's dossier."

"This isn't appropriate. You have no right to…"

"I have," I answered stubbornly, already reading eagerly. "Oh!" I exclaimed.

"What's the matter?" Veans grumbled.

"He graduated from university as an external student... And, judging by the dates... after receiving his Master's degree, he immediately began to teach at Hogwarts."

"My congratulations to him."

I raised a surprised look at the professor.

"Don't you know? He died."

At these words, my voice wavered.

"So what? Do you think that makes him unworthy of my warmest congratulations?" Veans answered sarcastically.

I pursed my lips.

"How can you speak so disrespectfully of a person who... whom... whom you don't even know!"

"Judging by what I've heard of him, I'm very lucky to not be acquainted with him."

I got even angrier.

"That's not true, sir. You're wrong."

"You think a person is mistaken in refusing to recognize the advantages of being acquainted with a murderer?" Veans asked, sounding more sarcastic than ever.

"Oh, so you know more than you wanted to show at first," I stated, "but less than you need to correctly judge others' actions. And even less to condemn them."

"I'd like to leave the question about the person's moral right to judge another – whether by word or by action. What I'm wondering about is why you – you, of all people – are defending him. And with such eagerness to top it off."

I got a bit at a loss.

"Please forgive me, sir, if I was too emotional. The thing is that not so long ago I had a conversation about Professor Snape with my classmates, and that conversation left unpleasant memories."

I briefly retold our argument with Terry, Professor Veans listened without interrupting.

"...so I get upset when I hear such words from you too, although I realize that they seem to be the only right ones in this situation. But believe me, Professor Snape was a man of a complex nature, but of much higher moral qualities than many. The fact that he, having once made a false step, was still able to choose the right path, only does him honour. And the anguish of mind that fell to his lot makes him even a more worthy man in my eyes."

Professor Veans snorted but then seemed to muse about something.

"All this is very touching," he said slowly and almost not caustically, "but all of England still considers him a murderer and a Death Eater. And that will probably never change."

I sighed sadly.

"Neither I nor Harry and Ron, have so far managed to find any facts proving that the professor took the Headmaster's life on the orders of the latter. That, of course, would significantly reduce the guilt of Professor Snape but alas, the search is fruitless..."

"Besides, you all have your own lives, in which there is no room for the past. Those people are gone, and you need to continue to live on," Professor Veans concluded seriously. "So put this scroll aside and look for the one you really need."

I sighed again and obeyed.

The search ended after an hour and a half after it started. When the sought-after scroll was found, I didn't have any strength even for joy, and I unrolled the parchment calmly. There, passing my eyes over the characteristics and data, I found a college emblem with a diploma theme written alongside. Touching the emblem with my wand, I whispered a spell, and another parchment hung in the air in front of me. This was Snake's graduation thesis. I started reading...

...My disappointment was endless. Everything Snake had achieved had already been done and discovered by Veans and me. It was doubly annoying that if Pitch would have immediately informed me about Snake's diploma, the professor and I would have saved a lot of time, which we spent discovering what had already been discovered once before.

"I don't understand why what Snake found out wasn't put into the public domain?" I asked the professor when we left the Vault.

"Don't forget who his curator was," was the answer, "the conceit of some academics who haven't achieved serious results in scientific activities, sometimes pushes them to very curious acts."

"You mean Professor Pitch... hindered him?"

"I think that she offered him more bright prospects than the fame in narrow scientific circles – let's say a good place somewhere in the Ministry since many of her friends are high-ranking officials. The young man was tempted by a high salary and chose to forget about his useless, as your dean undoubtedly was able to convince him, discovery."

I shook my head.

"She's a horrible woman," I said, and Veans chuckled derisively.

"With such a high level of intelligence, like yours, your tendency towards maximalism and extremes cannot but surprise. If Pitch was able to convince Snake that he didn't need this discovery, then he really didn't need it. Perhaps, he was guided not only by monetary interests while deciding to free his research of publicity. You should understand that a stupid person couldn't have done such a work, and a clever person wouldn't succumb to Pitch's admonitions without thinking."

I had to agree with these words. Then the professor said that he still had a lot to do and hurried to leave me. Despite everything, I concluded that the day hadn't passed for nothing.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

20th of November, Saturday:

I decided to show Dick that I didn't care about him. I was offended — even though I understood the stupidity of it — that he didn't like me but some American girl. How was she better than me? And it disturbed me that Dick thought that I still liked him, it wounded my vanity. Both of these facts contributed to the compilation of a plan – a plan in which I had to show Dick indifference at every possible opportunity.

On Saturday, I went to Quidditch as if nothing had happened. The match turned out to be unusually long, and we got to the café only in the late afternoon. There I was all cheerful and jolly, and ignored Dick so blatantly, that he several times had to ask me some insignificant questions to make sure that I still realized that he was also actually present. But it only riled me up. I used Emile, who as always was as quiet as the grave, to bestow with my increased attention in order to evoke at least some feelings in Dick. At least a simple hurt that I preferred another over him. And so fast as well.

Having sat up to ten in the evening in a café, and having drunk more than usual, our company – although it had noticeably thinned by that point – decided to go to a club in the city. I've been there rarely if ever, but the keen dancers among us assured the rest that it was ever so fun and going to the disco would be the best way to continue the evening. I decided that it must be so. While I was talking to Emile, Dick several times broke in our conversation to tell me some nonsense. It was a good sign.

In the club, we danced, drank and had fun. I was even too vigorous because I was deliberately getting all worked up, wanting to seem carefree and cheerful. I got so in character that sometimes I felt almost as good as I wanted to seem. Emile, who got all of my attention, eventually disappeared somewhere and was quickly replaced by Kenneth. He was a little drunk, but my mind wasn't as clear as usual either. A little devil suddenly stirred within me and decided to show everyone that I'm able not to just have fun and act as an ordinary young girl, but also flirt, be frivolous and take some liberties.

And most importantly – I wanted to prove to _myself_ that I can be appealing.

Kenneth was showering me with compliments, boggling the imagination with the variety and, at times, the choiceness of the language. I even involuntarily thought that he wasn't as stupid as I assumed since he managed to memorize so many turns of phrase and even apply them in the right place at the right time. In addition, he was able to take Jason's advice and take a different approach to me than trying to seduce me with vulgar jokes and groping. No, now he portrayed a gentleman. Not that it could delude me about his personality, but it was much easier to tolerate _this_ Kenneth than the old one. Therefore, somewhere after one o'clock after midnight, I found myself sitting in his lap. I felt like a terribly bad girl and I liked it. Even though I didn't like to sit in someone's lap and I'd rather stand on my head than sit on someone, I enjoyed my position and especially the restless behavior of Dick, who kept throwing me anxious looks.

The night raced by in a blur and then the morning came and it was time for us to part. We left the club as a tight-knit crowd, which weirdly broke up into small groups of people, and then finally into pairs. And no less weirdly, I ended up alone with Dick. I had no idea where Kenneth had disappeared to and how he had lost sight of me but that didn't bother me anymore.

Dick and I were walking to the Professors' garden and had a rather strange conversation, the essence of which seemed to be clear to us both but was carefully hidden behind the innuendos.

"He's a dumbass, you said it yourself as I recall."

"So what if I said so? I'm a girl, I'm so featherbrained."

"Nonsense... and besides, what was that about! You sat in his lap all night."

"What's the big deal?"

"What do you mean 'what's the big deal'! This is no good. It would have been a different matter if that was someone else, but YOU!"

"I sit where I want, you shouldn't care."

"But I do."

"And I don't care that you care."

"This is... beneath you."

"Go to hell," here I got angry, "it's not up to you to decide what's beneath me and what's not."

"You didn't have to sit with him and talk."

"I know I didn't. I don't owe anybody anything."

"No, I mean... you should have not sat. Not with him."

"There was no one else volunteering."

Suddenly Dick took my hand and pulled me to the bench. We sat down and a lantern immediately lit over us. We sat so close and I saw how his eyes glinted. I could smell him, so familiar and dear. I realized that something important was about to happen, but I didn't know how I felt about it. I didn't feel any emotions, except for the light tension caused by anticipation.

"There are others," he said, finally hugging my shoulders.

Then one of his hands touched first my nose, then my lips.

"You're very beautiful," Dick said out of the blue.

It was flattering – but no more than that.

"That Kenneth isn't worthy of you, you are too smart and beautiful for him, you'll find someone a hundred times better than that idiot."

" _Kenneth isn't worthy!_ " I thought. " _And who, I wonder, you think is worthy?_ " The answer seemed to have sounded in his next action – he leaned toward me and kissed me on the lips. I answered him, honestly trying to get pleasure from a kiss. But to no avail.

At that very moment, it was all over. All many months of my suffering, all the turmoil and tears, everything was in vain. Either I was a completely insensible creature, not capable of any vivid feelings, let alone love, or Dick wasn't the man of my dreams and not my other half. As for the second, when our lips touched, I felt a complete indifference to the young man next to me. I knew that if we had a chance to kiss, that would change everything. But how could I think that this would extinguish the smoldering embers rather than nurse them into a flame?

We sat a while longer, Dick told me how amazing I was. But I felt that although it was sincere, it was... as if apologizing. He seemed to be saying, "You are amazing, but for _us_ , it doesn't change anything". Once and for all our never blossomed relationship ended with the following line from Dick:

"Hermione..." he whispered after by now the third kiss, "do you even… need it?"

I understood that he was talking about the idea of the two of us together. And the honest answer was 'no'. But I, at that moment too overwhelmed by the realization that I was completely free from my feelings for Dick, suddenly got afraid that my flat answer might offend him. Now, upon sound reflection, I wouldn't spare his pride and rather, on the contrary, would have made everything easier for both of us by telling the truth. But I tried to answer delicately:

"Well... I don't know... somehow... probably, not... not really, I guess... Bottom line," I sighed, trying to collect my thoughts, "it's time to go. I want to sleep."

Dick nodded in agreement and we went to my college. We remained silent for a long time. Then, already upon saying goodbye, having exchanged only the short 'bye', I added:

"Well, you... write maybe. We are friends after all."

Dick eagerly reassured me that he would write to me almost every day but I knew that at best I would receive a Christmas card from him.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

27th of November, Saturday:

Back on Monday, Professor Veans suggested that we should start meeting more often, since the conference was going to take place very soon – on the 4th December – and we still hadn't achieved the results we expected. So I came to the laboratory on Saturday too. When I had a choice of where to go – to Quidditch or to meet with Professor Veans, I didn't even think about it twice and preferred Potions. Such ease in making a decision that once would be so hard for me really raised my spirits.

"We did a good job this week, didn't we, sir?" I said when we were cleaning up in the laboratory after yet another experiment.

"We haven't moved a single step," the professor answered with displeasure.

"Lack of results is also a result. At least, now we know what definitely shouldn't be done," I noted, clearing the remnants of an exploded potion from the table.

Veans chuckled and even smiled.

"Your optimism is almost contagious," he said, "but might I remind you that we have only a week left."

"And what do you advise?"

"Working," was the brief response.

I smiled.

"I definitely will follow your advice. One has already been effective, surely the second one will be too."

The professor looked at me questioningly and I explained playfully:

"Remember, you said that to attract a man, you need to make him hunt?"

"Mm."

"I did just so. And the more indifferent I was, the more he craved my attention. It's amazing."

Veans snorted.

"I wonder, does it always work?" I asked after a pause.

The professor shrugged silently.

"It worked with Kenneth too. And with Emile..." I muttered and then added louder, "I'll have to try it with someone else."

"And won't your previous victim take it as an insult?" the professor asked caustically.

"Dick? Nooo," I stated with conviction. "We are only friends now. And all thanks to you."

"Acknowledgments can be sent in writing, you know the address."

"Your jibe is unnecessary, sir. If it wasn't for your advice, I'd still suffer from my pseudo-love, but with your help, I had the opportunity to snare Dick, even if it was illusory, and I realized that I didn't need him. And now I feel so free! You cannot imagine."

"Indeed, I can't," Veans said and something in his voice made me hush up.

We finished cleaning without another word, and once again I found myself talking too much. I began to worry that the professor might form an opinion about me as an empty-headed frivolous babbler, which would be very unpleasant.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

28th of November, Sunday:

For a whole Sunday, I tried to understand Whitman's theorem. That is, I, of course, understood it and I could have easily proved the theorem, but _why_ everything happened this way and not the other was a mystery to me. For the umpteenth time, I looked through the reference's listing of the ingredients of category A and category C, comparing each with each, and all at once, and with ingredients of other categories, and rereading what was said about the classification of ingredients in the textbook of Basics of Potions, which we studied by in the first year. But I couldn't understand why in their interaction ingredients C were the active ones, thus giving the main magical properties to the potion, while the ingredients A gave only side effects. Everything was calculated using Whitman's formula, which was true in 99 percent of cases...

The professor and I needed to make two-pistil janus active, which belonged to category A, so it was necessary for Whitman's theorem not to work, thus we had to consider this one percent constituting the exception. I spent many hours on that.

The stroke of insight came unexpectedly. I could swear an apple fell on my head – so stunned I was when I realized what was missing. Inspired, I rushed to the Professors' campus, hoping that nine was a late enough hour to find Professor Veans at home.

I knocked on his door for nearly seven minutes. Finally, it opened. The professor wasn't dressed up but still looked as if he was about to leave somewhere. Why, in that case, he didn't open up for so long, was unclear.

"Oh, it's you," he said, and it became apparent to me that he was waiting for someone else.

"Sorry, sir, I'll borrow only a minute of your time," but then, recalling the previous incident, I added, "although if you are expecting someone, I'll come by later, and we also have a lecture tomorrow..."

Veans stepped aside and motioned me to enter. I didn't protest, too great was a desire to share a hunch, and it was too unlikely that anyone, besides the professor, would understand me.

"Be so kind as to wait for me in the drawing room, Miss Granger," Veans said with unusual politeness and I slowly entered the room.

He himself went upstairs, as I could hear.

I looked around, just like the last time. The living room still didn't seem quite homelike, although now there were more of its owner's personal belongings. Here was an empty goblet, a quill laid there. I sat in the chair nearest to the exit and found a thin book that had sunk between the seat and the armrest. Actually, it was rather a pamphlet than a book. I took it out and, to my astonishment, the title read 'How to make friends'. I snickered in surprise.

Having opened the book, from the cover of which a group of girls and young men in Muggle clothing were smiling at me annoyingly (which convinced me that the author was a Muggle), I began to read the headlines. Short theses under them explained what will be discussed below. In some places, there were quill-drawn checkmarks.

"If you want to make new friends," I read a chapter called 'COMMUNICATION', "you need to try to spend as much time among people as possible. Friends won't come by themselves and won't knock on your door while you're watching TV. And if people who are already around you (at school, work, etc.) aren't suitable material for friendship, it's not the end of the world." (Checkmark)

"Talk to people. You can mix with them, but never actually speak. Try to fix that. Talk to everyone: shop assistants, bank clerks, people on the bus or those sitting next to you for any reason (checkmark) – for example, at lunch or in a church (question mark).

Try to start conversations. The most simple way is to comment on the weather ('What a beautiful sunny day, isn't it?' or 'Oh, it's raining today'), ask for help ('What do you think, which scarf is better as a gift to mom?'), or give compliments ('What a fine car' or 'Your shoes are very beautiful'). After receiving an answer to the question, you can ask the consequent one, for example, 'Do you like warm weather?' or 'And what do you usually get for your mother?'.

Introduce yourself at the end of the conversation. It's not difficult at all, just say: 'By the way, my name is...'. Usually, people do the same in response. ATTENTION: remember his/her name!

Talk in a cheerful tone. Even if you complain about something, try to talk about it with a smile. See 'SMILE' part for more details."

"Try to look people in the eye and smile," the following section 'SMILE' advised. "If you look unfriendly, people will be less willing to communicate with you." (Checkmark)

"Initiate joint activities," insisted the 'JOINT ACTIVITY' part, "you can open your soul and smile all the time, but it won't help if you don't engage in any joint activity with people. Go to a party together, or invite a future friend to lunch. Or just take the same training or working project." (Checkmark)

"Be open," was said further, "don't keep secrets from friends. Unless the most intimate secrets (bold minus). Sometimes a heart-to-heart talk can bring you closer together than any other joint activity. Tell a friend about yourself, and then listen to everything he tells you about himself. IMPORTANT: be a good listener, remember everything that is told to you (checkmark). Be honest and reliable."

"You don't have to be fun or super cool. You just need to be positive and friendly (minus). Don't quip on every occasion (minus) but let people feel comfortable around you (minus) so that they don't fear you and don't recoil from you (minus). To do this, smile (see the 'SMILE' section) (bold minus), laugh often (minus, the paper slightly torn with a quill), don't forget to look in the eyes and just be confident. But not too much so that you won't be considered arrogant."

"Don't try to change yourself in order to make friends. Stay true to your beliefs. Be yourself." (Checkmark)

"Be careful when meeting people with whom you get acquainted online. They may turn out to be maniacs (see 'ONLINE' section)." (Question mark)

I heard that someone was coming back downstairs, and having closed the brochure quickly, I shoved it where I had taken it from. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at what I found. To be precise, the book surely was absolute nonsense but the fact that Professor Veans, maybe not in earnest, but read it, upset me. Despite the slightly mercurial and strange temper, as well as sometimes suspicious and sometimes mysterious and inexplicable behavior, I found Professor Veans very... likeable and I didn't want him to have problems with friends. I'd be glad to be his friend myself if he'd allow it. But the probability of such an outcome was quite low.

"So, you have my undivided attention. What brought you to my humble abode at such an hour?" Veans asked upon entering the living room.

I explained the matter and went into details of my little discovery.

"...and this will help us control the process from the very beginning…" I spoke.

"... which will give us the opportunity to extend the duration of the potion by up to four hours," the professor seemed to be truly amazed, "however, jack-in-the-steep…"

"Yes, sir, jack-in-the-steep, now also becoming active, will have a harmful effect and if we add so much of it, the wizard taking the potion can go blind permanently."

"Thus, only about three hours, not more," the professor said, calculating something on a piece of parchment.

"By my count, very much so, sir, but first we need to conduct a scientific experiment."

"Sure enough."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The professor looked at me, and for a moment it seemed to me that he would ask now:

"Are you expecting someone?"

But then he went to the hallway, telling me from there:

"We'll agree on the details tomorrow after the lecture."

I hurried after him just in time to see how he opened the door and with a nod greeted a tall blonde woman about his age. I got embarrassed and made haste to leave the professor's house, squeezing bashfully between the – very attractive – woman and the doorpost.

Turns out, Professor Veans was a real lady-killer.

* * *

 **T/N:** I'm so very sorry for this delay, I just hope that you didn't forget the story whatsoever. I hope to be back on track now and post more frequently. However, next chapter is huge, so, please, be patient with me. You are welcome to leave a review, they really encourage me to continue. Sorry again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Please, welcome my new beta Zooobly. Many thanks to you, you really saved me :)

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 8**

" _Become a better person and be sure to know who you are, before meeting someone new and hoping that person knows who you are."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

29th of November, Monday:

Now much became clear to me: the professor's bizarre behaviour, those strained smiles and constant attempts to talk to me... He simply followed the advice of the booklet in order to make friends with me. Apparently, he had problems communicating with people, and, having come to a new place, decided to try to deal with them.

When I got into university, I also wanted to start a new life, and I succeeded in many ways. I became a completely different person compared to the Hermione Granger who graduated from the magical school four years ago. I got older, wiser, and more tolerant of people and their shortcomings. I came to understand myself better. And if it were not for that ridiculous crush on Dick, I would probably be the most balanced and harmonious person in the world. When some new meaningful event occurs in my life, it's always the impetus for the beginning of something new, for the rethinking of the values and for the renewal. Therefore, I could easily understand Professor Veans, who, having begun a new stage in his life, decided to change and change something for himself. The fact that he chose me as his friend... well, why not?

As it always happens when you open a new chapter of life, your attitude and self-consciousness changes. And now, having been freed from my feelings for Dick, I began to feel better not only about everything around but about myself in the first place. I suddenly realized that it wasn't for my appearance or even my character but simply that I hadn't yet met that person who was ready to love me for who I am, and whom I would love – with all my soul, without doubt or hesitation, with love that would make me happy.

And thus, now it was easier for me to believe that Professor Veans chose me out of all the other female students — and it was probably necessary to choose since it was unlikely that he could immediately become Mister Sociability. Working on one person is much easier than on many all at once.

Moreover, it wasn't only me who he spoke to but also other females too. That is, I wasn't the only object of his social experiments, just 'one of the many'. And being 'one of the many' wasn't a novelty to me.

Of course, I couldn't be sure that he had purely friendly relations with other women. Frankly speaking, I upheld a completely different view. But with me, he definitely had an intention to be just friends.

Or rather, he hardly counted on something more... didn't he? I want to say that he would behave quite differently if he saw me as not just a student and a person interesting to talk to, but something more...

Anyway, it didn't matter to me. Absolutely. Because anything like that was completely out of the question. He was my professor, and I was his student. And I'm not one of those who didn't care about the rules and could forget about subordination. I'm too upright for such escapades. And the mere fact that such thoughts even came to my head meant that I deserved the bitterest censure from my inner self. Not that careless 'me' that pushed me on all sorts of adventures back in school, but a serious adult 'me' who adhered to the rules of moral rectitude and saw after my moral character.

On Monday I thought about all this in Herbology and Bibliography, and only in Poisons, I managed to concentrate on the subject.

After the lecture, Professor Veans held me back to first ask if I'd ever been to the reception by the Minister of Magic. I replied that I had, but quite a long time ago.

"You see, my sister, whom I didn't have time to introduce you to yesterday, thought that she met you at one of the minister's banquets."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise and answered with all possible courtesy that it was unlikely, otherwise I would certainly remember her. A swarm of thoughts flashed through my mind. The most compulsive of them were _'Ahh, siiiiiiiister...'_ and _'Why did he tell me that?'_.

Then the professor said that we needed to register the potion before the conference, for which we had to finalize it and conduct all the necessary experiments. Registration could be done only in London, and the professor was going to depart as soon as the experiments were completed. Since there was little time left, we decided to get down to business right in the evening and spend the whole night on the potion and, possibly, Tuesday as well. I was used to such a rhythm, and Professor Veans too, apparently.

We worked our fingers to the bone, having taken only a few breaks to eat. It was exhausting, but I couldn't help but feel some pleasure from the realization that this was real research and that I, still a very young witch, worked side by side with such a professional and was on my way to an important discovery. It was then that I realized for the first time that I had the proverbial vanity of a scientist.

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1st of December, Wednesday:

All of Wednesday I slept, neglecting the lessons whatsoever. Professor Veans went to London, first having promised to me that he would also catch up on the missed sleep at the first given opportunity. He said that he was going to stay in the capital until Saturday evening, and therefore we would next meet only at the conference. I didn't say anything about that, but in my heart, I hoped that I'd be able to see him before my performance in order to gain his moral support.

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4th of December, Saturday:

By Saturday, I turned into a bundle of nerves. Those around me were afraid to approach, let alone talk to me. I lashed out at the slightest pretext. Claudia had the worst of it because she had to live in the same room as me. However, by the weekend she finally understood that for the sake of her own good, it was better not to talk to me at all, but for me, even her dirty socks in the corner of the room were enough to give her an earful.

About an hour before the start of the conference, I left the dormitory and began to simply roam around Merlin's Campus, wanting to at least slightly reduce my nervousness. I could drink a Draught of Peace, but I was afraid that it would make me too apathetic and lethargic, which also wouldn't be very good.

While walking, I met Emile, who was hurrying to the Uroborus Hall to finish the preparations. He briefly reported on what had already been done and what final touches were yet to add. I was glad to be distracted from the thoughts about my presentation but Emile didn't fail to ask if I was nervous. I lied by replying, 'A little'. Emile smiled with his shy smile and gave me a slight hug.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine," he said. "You're the best."

I thanked him and hurried to leave. I didn't want to shout at him for trying to cheer up and reassure me, but I couldn't calmly endure this completely needless touching. At the time, my thoughts were captivated by the question _'Why am I so nervous, and what's wrong with me?'_. After all, being so intolerant to physical contact wasn't quite normal. But soon I was again lost in thoughts about the upcoming presentation. In my mind, I was playing out thousands of options, how my presentation would go, what questions could be asked, and how I would answer them. Some of my own questions puzzled me, and I didn't calm down until I found answers to them. And when I did, I was proud of myself and thought that it would be great if someone asked me such a question, because now I knew what to reply.

Finally, it was time to go to Merlin's Campus. Strings of students were already making their way to the main building of the university. The Uroborus Hall was already half full, mostly with foreign guests, but students of the Stonehenge University were also gradually gathering, filling up the back rows. I stood hesitantly beside the wall, looking around for familiar faces. And finally, I saw the face that I actually wanted to see the most.

"Professor Veans!" I addressed the professor, approaching him.

"Miss Granger," he said, scanning me from head to toe. "You look tense. And there is absolutely no reason for that – the registration of the potion went without any complications, and I'm sure that your presentation will be the highlight of the programme."

I smiled weakly.

"I don't really like... to be in the spotlight," I said. "And with my topic, it seems inevitable."

The professor gestured me to take one of the empty seats and sat next to me.

"And I don't see any reasons that would have forced you to dislike attention. I could understand that if you were an ugly creature, but I," Veans slightly leaned towards me and spoke more quietly, "having looked around, can declare with full responsibility that you will be the gem of this conference. I wouldn't want to insult other participants, but they all look as if they decided to study potions just to have a good reason to appear in public as rarely as possible."

I flushed unwillingly. Such a direct compliment couldn't but embarrass me, and I, having mumbled words of gratitude, hurried to change the subject.

"How were your days in London, professor?" I asked.

"Nothing interesting," he replied.

"Do you mean to say that you spent all four days in different government agencies trying to register the potion, sir?"

"No, of course not, Miss Granger. But I... don't have the talent to use my free time for any interesting entertainment, which I could tell about after."

"Neither do I. However, I'm sure there was at least something. Please tell me anything, otherwise, I'll start thinking about my speech again and will get nervous."

Veans looked at me thoughtfully.

"Very well. If it really helps to relieve your anxiety... on Thursday, I walked past a small bookstore – perhaps you know it, 'Picador and Sons' on Piccadilly..."

I nodded. Of course, I knew about it.

"...and found that there's a different owner now. Old Picador died a year ago, and now his eldest son is in charge of the store."

"Mr. Picador!" I exclaimed. "How unfortunate. He was such a nice gentleman."

"His son decided to expand the business and opened a bookstore for Muggles. The entrance for wizards is now located behind one of the shelves of the Muggle store."

"This is wonderful," I responded.

"I don't see anything wonderful," Veans replied discontentedly, "now Muggles are constantly getting in the way. They look awry at the cloaks and sometimes block the passage to the magical section."

I immediately tensed up. Was Professor Veans a Muggle-hater? This simply couldn't be, I would have noticed long ago. Besides, there was no way he didn't know that I was a Muggle-born.

"This isn't Muggles' fault!" I said, perhaps too heatedly. "You'd behave the same way in their place. I want to say, if you saw a man in jeans and a t-shirt right now in this hall, wouldn't you look awry at him? They have no idea that one of the shelves can be the entrance to an invisible bookstore, but they shouldn't be blamed for the fact that they weren't lucky enough to be born wizards. And this doesn't mean that they're stupid! In my opinion, it's even good that now the magical section can only be reached through the Muggle's, maybe more wizards will become familiar with Muggle literature and will realize that they're also worthy of respect. And I…"

"Miss Granger," Professor Veans interrupted me in a voice that sounded almost mocking, "I didn't intend to insult Muggles. And I'm familiar enough with their literature to appreciate the charm of the Muggle bookstore in the immediate vicinity of the magical one. However, the inconvenience associated with such a neighbourhood cannot but cause irritation. You should understand that. And I'm quite sure that if you had to stand for fifteen minutes next to a shelf full of books with the titles 'How to marry the man of your dreams' and 'I know everything about sex', waiting for some Muggle to choose a book about card divination, you would have shared my discontent."

I smiled.

"Yes, you're probably right," I replied. "Although... I wouldn't mind knowing how to marry a dream man."

Having realized by my joking tone that I didn't say it in earnest, Professor Veans smiled faintly.

"In this case, I think the second book would be more useful."

My cheeks turned pink again, but I tried to joke back.

"I don't know, probably, the first one includes the main chapters of the second one?"

"Maybe. You see, I don't strive to marry the man of my dreams, so I'm not that competent in the matter."

"It's good, sir, that you're able to admit your incompetence. You know, not everyone can so easily admit that they're ignorant in some kind of issue."

"Oh, and I also know nothing about cosmetics and I'm absolutely clueless about heeled shoes."

"Are you trying to impress me?" I asked almost playfully.

"Only if it works. If it doesn't, then no, I'm not trying to."

I glanced at the professor with a smile – he serenely looked somewhere ahead, but every now and then the tips of his lips were trying to form a smile. And only the will-power and self-discipline helped Veans not to smile broadly and casually.

Taking a view of the hall, I saw Claudia, Jason, and Dick enter it. My heart wavered. I haven't seen Dick from that episode with the kiss and had no idea how our meeting would go now. At first, I even thought about not approaching them at all, but Claudia noticed that I was looking at them and waved her hand – first in greeting, and then signalling me to come over. I had to leave the professor and go to my friends.

While I was walking towards them, I had time to think about how I looked — despite my cooled feelings for Dick, I still wanted him to like me — to consider the best way to greet him, how to behave. But the whole script built in my head fell apart when I finally approached the guys. It just happened that I said 'hi' to Dick with only a side glance at him and focused on Claudia and Jason right away. Then it seemed to me that I was too rude, or even that he could have thought that I was offended. And I just wanted to show indifference and slight neglect. So, I gave Dick another fleeting glance, but he was looking away and I once again returned to the conversation with Claudia.

"It seems that you finally calmed down?" Claudia asked, looking at me not without misgivings.

"Yes, for now," I replied, "but I think it's temporary. I have no clue what will happen to me when the time comes to go on the stage."

"Don't worry, you'll perform flawlessly," Jason encouraged me, "just as flawlessly as everything you do."

I smiled in gratitude, and Jason patted me on the shoulder in a friendly manner. To my surprise, it almost didn't irritate me.

"Come, let's sit down somewhere," Claudia suggested but I had to refuse.

"I already have a seat. Out there," I nodded in the direction where Professor Veans sat.

Claudia, running a sharp eye over the crowd, immediately took notice of our teacher and the empty chair next to him.

"Ahhh!" she drawled. "Now I see who's the granter of your peace of mind."

"Don't talk nonsense," I waived it away.

"Who?" Dick inquired, suddenly joining the conversation.

"Professor Veans," Claudia replied smugly, "he's in love with 'Mione."

"Seriously?" Dick said in surprise and Claudia reassured him that it was just so.

In defiance of common sense, I didn't argue with Claudia this time. I wanted Dick to see that other males like me. That even such a handsome and mature man could fall in love with me.

Then Emile approached us to inform me that one of the delegations was late. I felt how everything in my stomach clenched nervously. Not that I really cared about the fate of some delegation but the mere fact that something went wrong made me worried.

"Well, there's no rush for now," Emile said, "and I told two of the guys to sort it out. So, I think everything will be fine. There is no reason to worry."

"Then why did you tell her that?" Dick asked the question that occurred to me as well.

Emile blushed deeply and lowered his gaze to the floor. I immediately felt sorry for him and I hurried to assure him that he did the right thing, and I needed to be informed about all the problems. Emile forced a smile but his embarrassment was still obvious. I looked at Dick discontentedly, who made a face and gestured 'How could I know that he's such an idiot?'. My stare became even more reproving.

Then Claudia decided to change the subject and chimed in.

"Tonight after the conference we're going to have an afterparty!" she announced. "Dick, bring the punch-filler."

"Bring what?" I asked.

"Dick has a punch-filler, a large bowl that is always full of punch. Cool, right?"

"Cool," Dick agreed, "but there's one slight problem. The guys next door shuttered it when we last had a party in the dormitories."

"Damn!" Claudia exclaimed vexedly. "What morons!"

"I have something similar, only it's filled with French wine," Emile said modestly.

Claudia brightened up again. Emile was looking at her expectantly. Obviously, he was waiting for an invitation to the party, but Claudia, who usually didn't 'bother with such nonsense', as she said, smiled happily and didn't even think about blessing the young man with an official ceremony. I also held off on it, because – to my shame – I didn't really want to see Emile at the party. And although he shifted the inquiring-pleading gaze of his dark eyes to me, I pretended not to notice it. Then Dick decided to intervene:

"In that case, I hope you can bring it to the party? You'll come, won't you?"

Emile stared at the floor sheepishly and mumbled something about not having been invited, and therefore he didn't know whether it was alright...

"But I can give you the Wine Spring," he concluded, looking off to the side.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said, feeling sorry for the person suffering from such shyness, "of course, you're invited since the party will be dedicated to the conference and you were one of those who organized it!"

Emile looked at me with endless gratitude in his eyes. Then Claudia declared that they'd go look for places for themselves, and she, along with Dick and Jason, left, leaving me and Emile alone. He relaxed a little.

"You shouldn't be _that_ shy," I told him, probably, not too delicately, "given that you wanted to go to the party. Why did you start telling that you can just lend the Wine Spring?"

Emile avoided meeting me in the eye but still answered:

"I didn't want to be an odd man out. The more so, it seemed to me that _you_ didn't really want me there..."

"What nonsense," I replied, feeling ashamed. "Of course, I want you to come."

Emile beamed but I immediately sensed that I'd made a mistake. I shouldn't have encouraged his feelings for me. I hurried to say goodbye to the young man and returned to Professor Veans.

But only when I came quite close, I saw that he was talking to an unfamiliar woman who was sitting next to him – judging by her clothes, one of the German delegates. I felt a slight feeling of resentment at the fact that the professor allowed some lady to take my place, but right then I hastened to turn around and leave.

However, Veans's voice stopped me.

"Miss Granger!" he said sternly. "Where are you heading? I beg your pardon, Fräulein Schmid," he addressed his interlocutor, "I have to ask you to give up a seat to my student."

The young woman seemed offended by such a request, but she got up and changed seats. Fortunately, I managed to restrain the urge to stick my tongue out at her.

Despite the professor's desire for me to sit next to him, he didn't intend to carry on a conversation, and I was lost in thought.

Finally, the conference began and Dean Pitch came to the lectern in the centre of the stage. She delivered the welcome speech and everyone applauded. Then the first contributor came out. While he was reporting something, Veans addressed me:

"Do you know that you're the last participant?"

My stomach unpleasantly shrank again from thinking about what was coming.

"No," I whispered.

"This is a good thing," the professor said quietly after a pause. "Your report will get special attention. No one will be oppressed with the thought of having to listen to anyone else."

"Or everyone will be so tired that they won't pay any attention to me, which is also good," I replied.

The professor chuckled. Having slightly bent over to me, he spoke below his breath:

"I wouldn't rely on that. Everyone will be dozing off now and they'll perk up just in time for your speech," and then, more angrily, he continued, "and tame this nervousness. You always seemed to me a poised young lady. Or am I mistaken in assessing your character and you are just unable to show composure?"

That flared me up. I didn't answer anything but I resolved on proving that I would win the first prize at the Self-Control Competition if such ever took place.

Finally, it was time for my presentation. My name and the subject of my report were announced, and I walked onto the stage feeling weak in the knees. While sitting out there in my seat, I thought about what expression to put on my face when making an entrance, what emotions to show, the best way to stand at the lectern, what voice to begin my speech with. But as soon as I heard my name, it was as if my brain turned off. I acted completely automatically, thoughtlessly went out to the lecturing desk, looked around the hall with, probably, a stone face, not really seeing anyone, and took a deep breath. Now all I needed to do was to begin. I memorized my speech so that I could tell it if someone woke me up in the middle of the night. And the most important thing was to say the first phrase, the very first one, and then everything would be all plain sailing. But I felt numb. That has never happened to me, the excitement has never been so strong as to make me forget the words. My gaze lingered on Professor Pitch, who looked at me expectantly, which made me even more nervous. There was only one thought in my head: 'How does it start? How does it start?', but I couldn't concentrate and really call it to memory. Then I saw Professor Veans. He was calm and looked at me as if with curiosity.

 _"You always seemed to me a poised young lady. Or am I mistaken in assessing your character and you are just unable to show composure?"_

Having remembered his words, I sighed once again, and then my lips began to move on their own, making sounds that formed into words:

"My research was focused on..."

I didn't remember how my presentation went. Everything was like in a dream. I delivered my report smoothly; my voice didn't tremble and my hands didn't shake. However, when I finished, the audience didn't applaud, as it did after each performance. There was a stony silence in the hall. Everyone tried to comprehend what they heard.

I moved away from the board, on which during my presentation more and more formulas and calculations appeared by the wave of my wand, and stood at the lectern. Only now self-awareness has returned to me, and I tried to take a confident, even slightly relaxed look. I glanced briefly at Professor Veans – he seemed satisfied and still calm as before.

"Now I'd be delighted to answer your questions if you have any," I said.

There were plenty. I was bombarded with questions. Mostly, they were asked by professors from our and other universities, who were sitting in the front rows. Students from the back rows raised their hands a couple of times, but men of science almost didn't give the youth any chance to speak. At first, I confidently repelled the attacks – that's what the professors' questions looked like – but then an elderly wizard with a short grey beard joined the discussion.

"Professor McCain, Salem Magic University," he introduced himself. "Tell me, Miss Granger, when you undertook this project, did you ever think about what harm you cause to the society?"

This was said in a very polite tone, but there was some aggression in the question. I felt uneasy.

"Sorry, professor, I don't quite understand what you're talking about," I replied.

"I say that the Polyjuice Potion is forbidden to use. And it's used only by criminals who are trying to hide from the law that ensures yours and mine security. And if earlier the outlaw could hide under the false guise only for an hour, which caused him inconvenience, now he can do that for three hours, which is three times more time and, therefore, three times more convenient."

McCain fell silent and looked at me questioningly.

"And your question is whether I thought about it when I took up the project?" I inquired.

McCain smiled a Hollywood smile and replied:

"Precisely, Miss Granger. My question is exactly that."

I was at loss for a moment. I took a short glance at Veans – he watched me with interest. I clenched my fists and answered firmly:

"No, sir."

A disapproving murmur swept through the hall.

"What I did think about," I continued, "was how my potion will help the Aurors in their difficult and dangerous job. My friends work in the Auror Department, and I know perfectly well what risk they sometimes have to take using a regular Polyjuice Potion. Now the danger that they'll be exposed will be much lower and they'll be able to protect yours and mine peace with more confidence."

"Then, I suppose, you should have gone with your discovery not to this conference," McCain responded, "but to the Auror Department, which is in need for it. Nobody needs your discovery here."

I was offended by such a statement, but then Professor Rostov from the Russian Thrice-Ninth University rose from his seat. Quite young in comparison to other professors, he seemed to be admiring my work from the very beginning, and now was ready to protect me.

"Surely, Richard, you're right in many aspects," he addressed McCain in almost flawless English, "and we're in much more need for such scientific findings as the three-volume edition on the history of discoveries in the field of potions made by American potioneers over the past five years. By the way, I have long wanted to ask you, how did you manage to brew two thousand new potions in just... one thousand sixty-eight – wait, no, last year was a leap one – one thousand sixty-nine days? Even if we strike off the discovery of the fifth element of the healing potion of the Maya, which belongs to my colleague, Professor Chernomorov, and which you mistakenly credited to your compatriots..."

"It seemed to me that we had already put this matter to rest, Alex," McCain replied with displeasure.

"Of course, of course. Sorry. What I wanted to say was that this conference wasn't organized so that we could settle our fat asses on the chairs and give these young people the opportunity to entertain us with funny stories and discoveries of global significance. They prepare projects and come to this stage to enable _us_ to assess their talent and potential, as well as the level of the educational system of their country as a whole. And I want to say that I evaluate the talent of this charming girl with the highest score. I believe that it is her and her colleagues who in the future will invent a potion to eliminate the effects of the Cruciatus Curse or cure the Black Heart. She showed what she was capable of. Now our task is to appraise it and steer her abilities in the right course."

Professor Rostov fell silent.

"Very moving," McCain responded, who seemed to have nothing to retort.

"And your ass isn't fat at all, Rostov," Professor Spaziani said.

"Thank you. I didn't mean myself, actually..." the professor glanced at McCain, who was rather plump.

There were a few sniggers in the hall.

"This is all very touching," spoke a professor from Khaptu African Magical University, who had already asked me a question, "but those who present here are no longer children. They're real scientists who make important discoveries. They do researches, they're already adults. They must be responsible for their findings. Professor McCain is right that what this girl did opens great opportunities for criminals. She had to think about it."

I looked at the black man with a bit of gratitude. Despite the fact that his words were directed against me, he recognized me as a real scientist.

"But I doubt the prospects that open up to people with ill intentions are that great," I finally said. "Yes, of course, it'll become easier for them to hide if they have the opportunity to brew such a potion..."

"Easier?" McCain exclaimed. "But with such an aid a person can live even among acquaintances without any trouble, and no one will even suspect a thing!"

"It's hardly possible..."

"My dear child, I'm sure there are plenty of people whom you only see three hours a day," McCain didn't agree with me.

I couldn't help a smile. That may be, but there was one small, but very important detail...

"Professor McCain," I said, "I understand your concern, but the potion cannot be brewed without Dysfolid, which is owned by my research advisor. And I think he's unlikely to spend such a treasure to brew potions for criminals."

"By the way," McCain responded, "perhaps you could introduce your mentor to us? As well as answer what was his part in the project?"

"Yes, of course, sir. I had two scientific advisors: Professor Pitch and Professor Veans."

The dean immediately stood up and hastily commented:

"I almost didn't participate in this research! I have nothing to do with it. If I knew what a venture they embarked on, I'd never offer to help them."

With these words, she sat down, avoiding looking at me and my surprised face.

Then Professor Veans rose. Having glanced at me, he spoke softly:

"Allow me, Professor McCain, to answer your question for my student. My part in the study was exactly the part that the project curator should take. I helped Miss Granger with the choice of the topic, provided Dysfolid for her use, previously having briefed her on its properties, I watched over the progress of the work and morally supported her before going on stage."

All this was said in a serious tone, but on the last words, I smiled discreetly.

"As for the neсessity or uselessness, the danger or safety of this potion – here it's difficult for us to judge. When you, professor, revealed the secondary properties of the false lotus, you could hardly think that this discovery would be used to create a poison..."

Everyone, including McCain, was definitely surprised. Personally, I looked at Professor Veans with keen interest. I wasn't surprised that he possessed such knowledge, because he seemed to know everything, and, moreover, according to Claudia, he has studied in America.

"Ha! Great job, Richard!" Professor Rostov exclaimed gleefully.

"How the hell do you know that?" in his turn, Professor McCain asked. "This study hasn't been published anywhere, and I... I..."

The American turned red and seemed to lack air. Veans grinned wickedly.

"What matters isn't how I know it, but what it means. The same scientific discovery can do both good and harm. When the Dreamless Sleep Potion was created, no one thought that it would be used as a base for a potion that induces a coma to wizards. I'm inclined to agree with Professor Rostov and say that now behind this lectern," the professor has pointed out at me, "is standing the future of Potions. And even this small discovery can push Miss Granger to the new ones, 'necessary' even from your point of view, Professor McCain. And, to admit, I'm surprised that I have to explain such common truths to people of your... level."

Professor McCain winced discontentedly. At this point, Mr. Jacobson, who was hosting the conference, said:

"Well, if there are no more questions, I think Miss Granger deserves applause."

And the hall burst into roaring applause. I smiled shyly and left the stage.

"It was the last report for today," Mr. Jacobson said. "Tomorrow at the same time you'll be able to attend any of the six sections on various themes. You can find a detailed schedule and auditoriums' numbers on the stand in the main hall and in the pamphlets. If you haven't got the pamphlet yet, contact the organizers – you can recognize them by their green ties."

Everyone began to rise from their seats.

I walked on trembling legs to Professor Veans, who was still sitting on his chair. He looked at me without a word, then got up and said:

"See? There was nothing to worry about."

"Nothing? But they almost devoured me!" I whispered.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger," a voice sounded from behind me.

I turned around and saw Professor Rostov.

"Thank you, sir," I answered, smiling, "and thank you for supporting me."

"Honestly, not at all. These three hours would be the most boring in my life, if not for your entertaining presentation. And the subsequent discussion of such questionable projects is actually my favourite part. I love arguing with McCain, that old ass."

I looked at the professor with surprise. Although he was quite young by scientific standards – he was no more than forty – yet still, it was supposed that he was a serious man, a scientist. However, he spoke in a joking tone, without due respect to his colleagues. And when I looked at him more closely, I noticed some carelessness in his clothes and a devil-may-care attitude to all the rules regarding the dress-code at events of this level. But I couldn't say that I didn't like it. Professor Rostov had a certain charm and a slight untidiness only suited his image.

"And you're Professor Veans if I'm not mistaken? You're forever my best friend," he addressed my mentor and extended his hand for a handshake.

Veans looked at Professor Rostov's palm and, after a moment's hesitation, shook it.

"Perseus Veans," he said.

"Alexander Rostov."

The handshake ended, and Professor Rostov continued with a happy glint in his eyes:

"How did you know about the false lotus? Even I didn't know that, even though I'm collecting with gusto all the misses of my beloved colleague and love to occasionally remind him of them."

"I've come across McCain a few times in the past... most likely, he doesn't remember that, but I enjoy his failures as much as you do."

"Strange, how come that I've never met you before?" Professor Rostov asked, carefully examining Professor Veans. "Where did you study?"

"As your famous Russian poet wrote, 'мы все учились понемногу чему-нибудь и как-нибудь'*," Veans said the quote in Russian, which surprised me a lot.

I wanted to express my admiration but the professor suddenly excused himself:

"Please, forgive me, but I have to leave you. Miss Granger, don't go anywhere, I need to talk with you. Professor Rostov, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure was mine!" Professor Rostov responded and Professor Veans left somewhere.

"Well, Miss Granger, now you're completely at my disposal," the man addressed me when we were left alone, "and before these grey-haired vultures fly at you, I'll use the right of the first person who approached you and offer you an internship at our university."

I was taken aback.

"But... but what will it give me?" I asked. "I mean, wouldn't it be easier for me to complete an internship here at my home university?"

"Of course, it would. But what about sharing international experiences? Now, after this conference, every university will be glad to get you to make great scientific discoveries under their patronage," the last words he said in a theatrically pompous tone, "and they'll go to great lengths to lure you. You'll always have the opportunity to return here to Stonehenge, but it would be a sin not to take advantage of the benefits offered by foreign colleagues. Believe me, a year in another research institution will give you more than five years of stewing in your own juices in your alma mater. And then you'll return here as a specialist of international level. Isn't it tempting enough for you?"

"It is tempting but too elusory, Professor Rostov," I replied. "I still don't quite understand what benefits I'll receive from such a deal, with the exception of 'international experience'."

"Money, recognition. Your price in the scientific market will rise and all doors will open before you."

"You have your way with words," I commented.

"This is hereditary. My father was a politician... Miss Granger, let me explain one thing to you. Potioneers fall into two categories: those who consider potions an art, and those who consider it a science. The former conjure over the cauldrons, perform magic, boil love and seal the glory in the bottles. They're widely known in narrow circles and have almost no vanity or ambition. The latter are you and me – scientists. We perceive potions on a completely different level. For us, they're a subject of study... I beg your pardon for an indiscreet question but are you a pure-blooded witch?"

"No, I'm a Muggle-born," I replied.

"Then you should be able to feel that difference more keenly. The former are wizards from fairy tales, their potions are real magic as you imagined it when you first became aware of the magical world. And scientists are pure logic, calculations, research. Progressive people with conservative minds, as paradoxical as it is. And the real achievement here is to get into the narrow circle of the chosen ones. There are no more than twenty of us, globally renowned potioneers, and in order to get into this elite club, you need to put forth a lot of effort. Why am I saying all this? Since you, my dear, have chosen the second path, you'll have to follow some rules in order to satisfy your ambitions and become one of the best. And I want to say in advance that you shouldn't aim to be the 'best' because those are quickly removed from the list. While you are one among all, 'one of' – you are in the club. But once you stand out – you're immediately kicked out. No one likes smarty pants."

"It seems to me you're saying all this so that I change my mind about becoming a scientist," I noted.

"It's not that bad. In the end, membership in this club offers many advantages. Every weekend you can play a magic ball with these farters, and you'll have a lifetime discount in the Drunken Alchemist. Ah, and, of course, the free membership cloak!"

"If you mean the cloak which Professor McCain wore today, then count me out."

Professor Rostov laughed.

"Charming! I beg you, agree to my offer. A year at Thrice-Ninth University, and you're halfway to our elite club. Believe me, you'll have no regrets. If you agree, it will be the most fun year of your life. We Russians know how to have fun."

"That's exactly what scares me," I murmured.

The professor chuckled. I looked at him doubtfully.

"To be honest, your offer is completely unexpected and I need to think it through. I'd like to discuss everything with Professor Veans..."

"Talking of this Veans of yours. Strange guy. Who is he? Where did he come from? Such brains and never once appeared even at the most worthless conference. A natural from upcountry, or was he hit on the head and he suddenly woke up to potions talent?"

I shrugged.

At that moment, Professor Veans approached us himself.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Miss Granger," Professor Rostov said, "please consider my proposal. Professor Veans."

The professors bid their farewells, and I was left alone with Veans. The hall was almost empty already, and my teacher offered to go outside. Along the way, he said almost casually:

"By the way, Miss Granger, tradition obliges me to inquire if you'd like to celebrate our shared victory?"

I looked at him wonderingly.

"But isn't it time for a festive dinner for professors?" I asked.

Veans nodded.

"But I have no desire to go there," he said, "all this talk, strained smiles..."

"Socializing, free drinks... I understand, the very idea of this must be disgusting to you."

"If you don't want to go you can just say so," the professor replied angrily, and I hurried to reassure him that I would gladly accept his invitation.

"Actually... Claudia is having a party..." I began, but seeing how his face contorted, added immediately, "but I don't really want to attend. You know, all this talk, strained smiles..."

Professor Veans chuckled.

"In this case, I'll pick you up a little bit later; will six in the evening work for you?"

"Err... I'd better come for you myself."

Veans looked at me questioningly, but then he nodded and we took our leave.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

On the way to the dormitories, I thought about everything that had happened. The conference itself somehow paled in my eyes compared to what happened after. Firstly, the proposal of Professor Rostov, as unexpected as it was incomprehensible to me. That is, I could understand why they'd need me – fresh blood, fresh brains. Important discoveries raise the university's credibility... but did I need it? Was it true what Professor Rostov said, that without an internship at a foreign university, I'll have less chance of achieving real success and serious career growth?

I decided that I'd need to discuss this matter over dinner with Professor Veans. And this decision led my thoughts to the second development. Professor Veans has invited me to dinner! And not because I was at hand, but for no particular reason. Well, of course, it was meant to be the ordinary meeting of a student and her professor, with the aim of discussing the conference, raising glasses for success and talking about pressing issues. But damn it, it felt good! Not every day I was invited to the restaurant by such smart handsome men. Many girls, who weren't completely scared off by the complex character of the professor, would have dreamed of being in my place. And although I saw Veans simply as an interesting conversationalist, and the upcoming meeting as business dinner, I couldn't help but admit that I was looking forward to it. And for some reason, there was a pleasant fluttering feeling in my stomach at the thought of spending the whole evening in the professor's company.

Having entered mine and Claudia's room, for a second I thought that a few minutes ago a hurricane had burst into the dormitory, and, having rushed through this room exclusively, disappeared, leaving only chaos and havoc behind.

"Claudia!" I exclaimed. "Did the trolls decide to take revenge for the defeat in the thirty-second and stormed here, blazing through everything in their path?"

"I don't know what to dress for the party!" Claudia's voice came from the closet.

"Wear," I corrected automatically. "And why don't you choose, for example, this turquoise cloak that is hanging now from the chandelier? Or that dress on the floor near my bed?"

"Turquoise doesn't complement the colour of my eyes, and that dress makes me look fat!" Claudia answered, throwing yet another cloth out of the wardrobe.

I came closer to see my friend standing on all fours – or rather, I only saw her bum, since everything else was hidden behind cloaks hanging on the rack.

"And what's wrong with this skirt?" I asked, picking up the black fabric with the toe of the shoe.

"It's too long," the answer was.

"Are you a witch, or have you been skillfully pretending all these years?"

"I can't cut it evenly! Charms aren't exactly my forte."

"Would you like me to try?"

"No," my friend replied capriciously, "I still don't want to dress it."

"Wear. Well, I don't know how else to help you. I also have to find something for myself now, which is no easier. However, probably the black dress, which I bought the weekend before last one, will fit for the restaurant. Or was it even before that?..."

Claudia got out of the closet and stared at me.

"What restaurant?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you... It has completely slipped from my mind! You see, it seems that I won't come to the party because I was invited to a restaurant."

"WHAT?!" Claudia exclaimed indignantly. "It's a party in your honour and you won't come?! Err... to the restaurant?" she suddenly said with entirely different emotions. "With whom?"

"Well... with Professor Veans. He invited me."

The best way to avoid Claudia's discontent was to convince her that I was going on a date.

"You have a date! With Veans!" Claudia shouted gleefully, leaping up and throwing herself on my neck.

I tried to escape her hug with no luck, but she continued to squeeze me, clinging onto me stronger than Devil's Snare.

"Okay, okay," I muttered, "I need to get ready."

"Sure, of course! And that black dress is perfect. It really suits you. I was actually surprised when I saw what a beautiful dress you bought! And also do your hair up and put on some bright eye makeup. Use a black eyeliner! But be careful, no frills, and also..."

I listened to her advice with a bored expression on my face, and then turned around and went to the bathroom. But even there I could still hear her voice, explaining how exactly I should do my hair.

At a quarter to six, Claudia – after all, having found what to wear – was circling around me, asking where Professor Veans was and when would he come.

"He won't come, I'm going to pick him up myself," I replied.

"WHAT?!" my friend cried out. "But I wanted to see him so much! Surely he looks just awesome all dressed up!"

"For one thing," I replied, "I decided to arrange everything this way precisely because of you and your inability to control yourself. And secondly, I wouldn't want other students to see that I'm going somewhere together with the professor. It's impossible to explain to everyone that this isn't a da...," I fell silent, almost having said too much.

Fortunately, Claudia didn't notice my mistake, as she was too captivated by fantasies on the theme of 'Professor-Veans-goes-to-a-restaurant'.

Finally, I was ready and, having throwing a warm cloak on, but without buttoning it, I went to the Professors' campus.

When Professor Veans opened the door of his house to me, we both froze for a few moments, gazing at each other. He looked gorgeous. He seemed rather tired at the conference after long exhausting hours in the lab and busy days in London. But now in front of me stood a stunning, seemingly just perfect man, polished to the gloss and incredibly handsome. Never before had his appearance impressed me as much as at that moment.

His gaze also lingered appreciatively on my hairdo and, I'd swear, on the neckline of my dress.

The professor invited me in, and together we went to the living room to use the fireplace and move to the restaurant that Veans chose. Having gallantly offered me a hand, he helped me step into the fireplace and then took up the Floo Powder and said clearly:

"Eugene's Wand."

A second later the whirlwind spun me, forcing me to cling to the professor, and then pushed me out of the fireplace in a small bright hall.

"What is this place, sir?" I asked, fixing my hair.

"We are in Northern Ireland. I think it's unlikely that we meet any acquaintances here. The restaurant is known for its wines and pleasant atmosphere. I'm sure you'll like it."

I was about to share the professor's confidence. We passed into a relatively small hall, where all the tables were already occupied, except for one.

Eugene's Wand really was a very cosy restaurant, bright and warm, with soft chairs in Queen Victoria's style and discreet music filling the room. As soon as the wine menu appeared on our table, Professor Veans, with all the seriousness that was appropriate to the occasion, set to the selection of a beverage, in the meantime explaining to me why we shouldn't choose this or that wine. I was silently nodding while examining the furnishings. I was a no better expert in wines than the professor was in heeled shoes. Which I hurried to inform him of when he showed his discontent with my indifference regarding such an important question.

When, finally, the food and drinks were on our table, the subject of our conversation shifted to business. I told the professor about Professor Rostov's offer, mentioning that I had no idea what to do about it.

"It all depends on your intentions," Professor Veans replied to me. "If you're really ready to fight for your place in the sun, go without hesitation. All you have to do is decide whether or not you have enough ambitiousness and impudence."

"I don't know... I'm not sure. Ambitiousness – yes, impudence – hardly."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to dissuade you," the professor said. "The decision is entirely yours. But I'm sure you've already thought about other options. What would you like to do after graduation?"

"Actually, I wanted to become a Healer and work at St Mungo in the poisoning ward. I've always – ever since school – dreamed of helping other wizards. I think this is the most decent job. Also, I could do research on the basis of the hospital. Create new medicines and antidotes, fight with incurable diseases..."

"Your gryffindorism is... ahem, commendable. But do you have any idea of how much a beginning Healer gets? Besides that, do you seriously think that they'll immediately assign you a laboratory and leave you in peace to do your research? I don't think so."

"But... but what should I do then?"

"You could go teach," Professor Veans suggested.

I raised my eyebrows in astonishment.

"I'm not sure that I'll make a good teacher," my answer was. "I'm too short-tempered and irritable. Students will hate me."

The professor chuckled.

"You're deliberately belittling your own merits, angling for a compliment," he said, definitely teasing me.

"Not at all! Besides, I'm a terrible bore, and everyone will fall asleep as soon as the first words leave my mouth."

"In that case, I should have been fired a long time ago for utter professional inaptitude," Veans answered.

"No!" I exclaimed. "You're… not that bad. I mean, you're a good teacher, just..."

The professor tilted his head slightly to one side and looked at me derisively.

"You just have a complex character... What I'm trying to say is that you aren't chatting like some, and you aren't trying to make a good impression. And, in my opinion, you don't really like people. But your lectures are very fascinating."

"I wonder what it was – an original compliment or a graceful insult?"

"It was a statement of the fact."

The conversation never returned to the choice of a profession, but during the evening, Veans and I managed to discuss more than I could ever discuss with, let's say, Claudia for a month. I drank wine and barely ate, my tongue loosened and by the end of the evening – as much as I was ashamed to admit it – the professor was aware of my difficult relationship with Dick, if that word could be applicable in this situation. He also learned why I sometimes found it difficult to live with Claudia, how I feared that the friendship with Harry, Ron, and Ginny will break because we rarely saw each other, why I didn't like the excessive attention from Emile and – most importantly – why I always avoided drinking alcoholic beverages.

"You see, I'm talking non-stop. It seems that you hardly said a word for the whole night. And you, probably, consider me a terrible blabber now, although that's a completely wrong idea. This is all your damn wine. Very tasty, by the way, never drank anything like that."

Veans looked at me with a faint smile on his lips. The wine appeared to have an effect on him too, and now he seemed very relaxed.

"I understood from your stories that you're a secretive person, and therefore I'm amazed by your frankness with me," the professor answered, and after a pause he added, "but I'm grateful for the trust you've shown. No matter how silly that is."

I stared embarrassedly at the almost empty glass, which I was continuously twirling in my hands before that.

"Thank you, sir. To be honest, despite all my unwillingness to tell anyone about my personal life, I always felt the need to speak my mind. It's so hard to always keep everything to yourself, and it's so nice to have the opportunity to confide in someone."

Veans gazed at me intently.

"I can relate. Sometimes I also feel the urge to tell about myself, but then I understand that there are too many circumstances against it."

"But you can tell me!" I exclaimed.

"I'm afraid that it's _exactly you_ who I can't."

I looked in surprise at the professor who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. Having decided not to break the silence, I also mused. I thought about this strange relationship with Veans, about my inexplicable fixation on him and this sense of trust. About the professor's incomprehensible interest to me. Against my own will, I remembered again this ridiculous assurance of Claudia that Veans liked me. I watched my teacher (wasn't he gorgeous!) – he was looking somewhere aside at the moment.

 _"Could it be that he, if not fell in love with me, at least took a liking to me? Not just as to a person, but as to a girl? After all, Claudia knows about relationships more than I do... She had, so to speak, more practice in this."_

I smile crookedly at my own thoughts. _"More!"_ I thought. _"I had almost none at all. Victor Krum, Ron Weasley, and a couple of guys from the university. Dick, there again. And that's all who were in my past. And none of them gave me what could be called the experience of the relationship between a man and a woman. And Professor Veans is a very difficult person, can I, as inexperienced as I am, count on me to understand him, to see his soul, to know his feelings? Only if he tells me himself..."_

"What's the matter, Miss Granger?" the professor asked, turning slowly towards me.

"Sir?"

"You've been staring at me for a few minutes. Do you want to ask something?"

I was somewhat confused – I didn't know that he saw me looking at him.

"Come on, you couldn't have been unaware that people have 'side vision'," Veans said derisively, seeing my puzzlement. "So?"

"I... no, it's nothing..."

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing. Some nonsense. Really. I just…"

"Bring it on."

"No, honestly, it's just absurd. Not worth mentioning."

"But you were watching me for about five minutes."

"Doesn't it bother you that we were silent for that long?" I tried to laugh it off.

"I like it when you keep silent no less than when you speak," Veans answered gallantly, "although at the moment I would prefer the latter."

"Hm... well, it's just that Claudia... she thinks that... No! It doesn't matter."

"I solemnly swear on the beard of that elderly wizard at the table by the window, that I won't use any Unforgivables or torture curses on you if I don't like what you say," Veans said in a very serious tone.

"This isn't because of you, I'll just feel stupid," I replied, smiling.

Then I thought that the more fuss I put up, the more foolish what I had intended – and I did intend – to say will sound. And that it was necessary to pass all this on as a joke. As if I myself found it utter nonsense.

"It's just that Claudia, no matter how foolish it is," I said in an indifferent tone, leaning back in my chair, "thinks you like me."

A blush suffused my cheeks immediately, but I was still trying to maintain a serene look. The professor, who didn't even need to pretend to seem relaxed, smiled slightly.

"And why is it foolish?" he asked.

"But it's not true!" I exclaimed, against my will putting too many emotions in.

"What made you think so?"

I looked at Veans, then, unable to bear the piercing gaze of his green eyes, I shifted my own. My lips involuntarily formed an embarrassed smile.

"I'll rephrase," the professor said suddenly. "Why do you still have any doubts on this point? From the very first day, you were supposed to be sure of my passionate affection to you."

Something clenched unpleasantly in my stomach. The smile faded from my face. Stupid, stupid Granger...

"From the very first day, I got the impression that you're trying to make me think that you like me. But the first assumption seemed to me stupid and the second – absolutely impossible. Therefore, I decided that my theory was false. Although you succeeded in convincing Claudia that you took a liking to me, which she constantly reminded me of. Now I see that I was right, and you really were creating that impression intentionally."

"How come that's impossible? Do you think I can't fall in love with an attractive student?" Veans asked after a pause.

I snorted.

"Oh, please. Just not with me."

"Why?"

"Only modest insecure boys or complete idiots could fall in love with the likes of me."

"And now you said something foolish," the professor replied.

"I'm talking nonsense all evening, you could get used to it, sir," I said fiercely, suddenly getting up from the table.

The professor also rose, looking at me wonderingly.

"And the stupidest thing was to come here with you!" with these words, I threw the napkin on the table and rushed to leave the restaurant.

My head was spinning, and I suddenly felt unwell, so in the Floo room, I had to ask a restaurant employee how I could find myself in the street without the help of a fireplace. He pointed to a small door and I hurried out into the frosty air. Belatedly, I thought that I had forgotten my cloak in the restaurant.

No less belated was the thought that I've hardly eaten since last night, and today I had drunk at least half a bottle of wine. The earth was slipping from under my feet and a wave of nausea surged over me, when suddenly someone hugged me from behind, at the same time throwing a cloak over my shoulders.

"Miss Granger," I heard Professor Veans say.

Having realized who that was I gathered all my strength and pushed him away. Suddenly I felt so weak that I had to lean against the wall, all the while trying to restrain the urge to say goodbye to the only piece of meat that I happened to eat.

"Don't... I'm fine," I muttered, seeing that the professor was about to help me again.

And as soon as these words fell from my lips, the world around me dimmed, and I lost consciousness.

*'All of us had a bit of schooling in something and somehow' – quote from "Eugene Onegin" by Russian poet Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin, in translation by Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, Russian and American novelist, poet and translator.

* * *

 **T/N:** Again, I'm so very sorry for this delay. My previous beta suddenly vanished while I thought that she is working on the chapter. And then I lost some time finding a new one. But remember, no matter how much time it takes, I'll finish this story! As always, you are very welcome to leave a review, they really encourage me to continue.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my beta Zooobly :)

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 9**

" _Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to, it doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

5th of December, Sunday:

On Sunday I woke up quite early. Having opened my eyes, I saw the sunlit ceiling and the pale green walls, which dismayed me. The thing is that the walls in mine and Claudia's room were peach.

I sat on the bed abruptly and immediately regretted that. For a moment, it seemed to me that someone had stunned me with a powerful curse – coloured spots danced before my eyes, my ears popped, and my head was spinning. Having fallen back onto the pillows, I began to examine the room, at the same time trying to recall what had happened the day before. The scenes of the past evening appeared in my head in bright flashes, immediately being replaced by the new ones, and, finally, all the pieces came together into a single picture. And there could be no doubt about my location – I was in Professor Veans's house. The furnishings of the room – mannishly poor on decorations and spartanly simple – spoke in favour of this guess.

When the dizziness from the sharp rise passed, I slowly sat on the bed, and then looked down to make sure that the dress was still on me. I would burn with shame if it turned out that Professor Veans had changed my clothes for more suitable ones before getting me into the bed. Fortunately, he hadn't.

Putting my bare feet on the floor, I stretched out and then went on fixing my dress, hair, and makeup. There were no mirrors in the room, so I had to do that intuitively.

When I finally decided that I was ready to face Professor Veans, I got up, walked to the door, and pulled the handle. But to my surprise, the door turned out to be locked. I knocked, but there was no answer. Since I haven't seen my wand anywhere, a mild panic seized me. People don't lock up girls in the rooms unless there's a reason. But the next minute I heard some rattle outside the door, as if a chair or something of the sort fell on the floor, then I picked up the steps and realized that someone was making his way up the stairs. Finally, I heard the unlocking spell.

That was probably the most nervous split second in my life – except for... no, perhaps not the most, but definitely very close. If I'd make a rating of heart-pounding seconds, then these would be in the top ten... and Claudia would have already pretended to be asleep if I've set upon such musings out loud.

So, the door finally opened, and I almost burst into laughter from what appeared before my eyes. In the corridor stood sleepy professor Veans in what seemed to be hastily slipped on trousers and a white nightgown clumsily tucked into them.

"Six in the morning," he said in a hoarse voice, "yesterday you couldn't stand on your feet, and today you got up at six in the morning."

I couldn't help smiling. The professor entered the room and looked at me carefully.

"Judging by your appearance, you feel fine," he stated.

"Yes, quite. Thank you."

"I suppose, you would like to have breakfast?"

I grinned.

"You don't have to feed me at all. I should be thankful that you didn't ditch me on the street near the restaurant."

Veans seemed to get angry.

"I could after your infantile behaviour."

"Infantile?" I repeated, putting my hands on my hips.

"Exactly," Veans answered, folding his arms on his chest.

"And your behaviour is really," I stumbled, fumbling for the right word, "incomprehensible!"

"If someone doesn't understand the principle of the hydrological cycle, it's not the fault of the principle."

"Ah, so! Well, I at least don't sleep in a women's nightie!" I blurted out, and then added a little perplexedly, "although for me it would be quite normal..."

"This," Veans grabbed himself by the shirtfront, "is a men's shirt."

"With frills on the sleeves," I added sardonically.

"You have typical Muggle views on fashion. It's surprising that you aren't laughing at every wizard in a cloak who passes by. However," the professor suddenly said, as if a brilliant idea dawned upon him, "if my shirt disturbs you that much, I can easily take it off."

With these words, he clutched the back of his shirt and pulled it off in one swift motion. I gaped at him indignantly. Then I shut my mouth, realizing that I looked rather stupid. The professor looked at me defiantly with his arms folded.

"You know, this is too much," I finally uttered and hurried out of the room.

As I flew past the professor, I couldn't fail to note how well he was built, but I wasn't going to show him my admiration.

Going down the stairs, I heard that he was coming right behind me, but I didn't even think to look back. Once I was at the front door, I didn't halt even for a second, throwing him 'goodbye' on the go. However, as soon as I opened the door to get outside, I realized that the next door – Professor Pitch's door – also opened.

"Good morning, Perseus," was all I managed to hear before I flew back into the house and slammed the door.

Luckily, the dean never got the chance to notice that it wasn't actually Veans who emerged from the house of her colleague – Merlin, at six in the morning! – but the most diligent student in her year.

Unfortunately, the professor happened to be too close, so my hasty retreat led to an inevitable collision. He caught me by the waist, preventing more disastrous consequences, such as a fall or a more powerful blow. Before both of us had time to voice everything that we thought about each other's gracefulness, there was a knock on the door. The options of whoever it could be were scarce. With no time to think properly, I stood at the side of the door, so that Professor Pitch couldn't notice me unless she came in. Veans made scary eyes at me, then went to the door and opened it. Most probably Professor Pitch intended to enter the house – and then she would have found me out – but Veans blatantly remained standing in the doorway, not inviting the troublemaker in.

"Perseus, it's good that you got up already," I heard the dean's voice, and then, after a pause, "won't you catch a cold?"

I barely contained a laugh: Veans opened the door still half-naked, which probably surprised his prim colleague a lot.

"Only if you keep me here for too long, ma'am," Veans answered without a hint of emotion.

"I just wanted to say that today at the conference you'll be the head of section number seven."

"No one told me about that," Veans replied irritably.

"How come? Didn't I just tell you?"

With that, Pitch left, leaving by now enraged professor on the doorstep. A few seconds later he slammed the door, though continued to burn it with his stare.

"I can imagine what she would think if I bumped into her on the threshold," I muttered.

The professor shifted his gaze to me. Then the tips of his lips quivered.

"Well, I have to go," I said, to which Veans nodded in agreement.

I opened the door carefully and stuck my head out. There was no one outside, so I hurriedly left the house. Of course, it was unfair that I had to sneak around as if I had done something bad. After all, it's not my fault I fainted! But if someone saw me leaving Veans's house, ten out of ten that there would be rumours swirling around the university. And it would be one thing if the rumours were sound, but when you really didn't do anything, and everyone says you did it, that's completely unfair.

Yet another surprise awaited me in mine and Claudia's room. This time, there were randomly scattered people all over the room: Julius, the head boy, was sleeping on the floor by the doorway with his arms around, apparently, the Wine Spring; on my bed, also in embrace, Claudia and Jason quietly snuffled; Emile slept on Claudia's bed, curled up at its head; on the other side there were Dick's legs – I recognized his favourite boots made of spring lamb's skin. Stepping over Julius, I walked a little to the right to see that Dick was lying on the floor on his back, arms stretched out wide. In my opinion, the pose, when you lay on the floor with your legs on the bed, was very awkward for sleeping, but this everyone decides for themselves. Dick, by the way, looked quite comfortable. Going into the bathroom for inspection, I saw a completely expectable picture: Gina was sleeping in the bathtub, and Terry was snoring on the toilet mat. Judging by the stains on the floor and on the toilet bowl, Terry thoroughly cleared his stomach last night. I grimaced and went back to the room. The impression was that these people fell asleep on the go, falling on the floor as if shot down. I wondered if I had a chance to find a place to settle with a book, but then a more brilliant idea came to my mind. Considering that Gina was sleeping in our room, there should be a spare bed in hers, so I decided to change my clothes and head off to my neighbours.

Going to the wardrobe, I opened it, intending to get jeans and a sweater, and almost cried out in horror, because Judith was standing there, as it seemed to me at first. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was, on the contrary, half-opened. On closer inspection, I realized that Judith was hanging on a rack – someone had hung her up by her own sweater, and now she was sleeping peacefully. Seeing that both the hanger and the rack withstood the girl's weight, some magic was in play. Having calmed my heartbeat and breathing, I, not without difficulty, took my clothes out of the closet, and, realizing that I also had nowhere to change, decided to take everything with me.

Right before going out, I thought it would be a waste to leave just like that, without taking advantage of the fact that eight people were sleeping in my room after an apparently successful party. Smiling wickedly, I left a small present for each of them, and, quite happy, went out into the corridor.

Having approached the next door, I tried to open it, but it was locked. I sighed hopelessly. I didn't want to wake up anyone who was in the room – if anyone was there –and I didn't know where else I could go at half past six in the morning. However, I was lucky, because after a few seconds the door opened. In the doorway stood Marie, Gina's cohabitant.

"Hermione?" she asked wonderingly in a slightly sleepy voice.

"Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn't... oh, it seems you were awake already?"

"Yes, I'm visiting my parents today. The nearest fireplace connected to the Floo is a hundred miles away from them. I must leave early to be home before lunch."

I nodded in understanding.

"I just came in and found half a dormitory in my room. I thought, since Gina is sleeping in my bathroom, it means that I have a chance to occupy her bed."

Marie smiled.

"Yes, sure, come on in! I'm leaving soon, so no one will disturb you."

I thanked Marie, took a shower in their bathroom, got changed, and then laid down on Gina's bed with a book in my hands. And didn't even notice how fell asleep. I woke up from some noise. Having looked around, at first not understanding what had happened to our room, I quickly came to my senses and stood up. " _Waking up in someone else's bed twice in one morning is too much. That can have a bad effect on the state of my mind_ ," I thought.

I listened closely to the noise and smiled smugly. Judging by the sound of it, everyone woke up in the next room and saw my presents. I went out into the hall at the same very moment when Gina came out of mine and Claudia's room. Her forehead said "NEATNIK". I snickered into my fist, for which I received a disapproving look. Then I thought that I shouldn't let them immediately understand who pranked them, and therefore asked meekly:

"What's that, Gina?"

"Some idiot..." she hissed.

"But why 'neatnik'?" I asked in the same innocent tone.

"I slept in a bathtub," Gina grumbled and hurried away into her room.

Screams rang out from mine and Claudia's room. I went inside. Claudia and Jason tried to get out of bed, which they had some trouble with because their robes were sewn together. I pressed my palm to my mouth, trying to hide laughter. Then I looked at Claudia's bed. Dick, sitting on the floor, tried to free his legs from the footboard. I knew that he wouldn't be able to untie the magical knots on his shoes' laces with just his hands, but didn't say anything – he had such a cutely serious face.

Emile was still asleep. As soon as I thought about waking him up because soon it was time to go to Merlin's Campus to work on the conference, there was a wild cry that woke Emile up. It woke him up just to make him scream as well because his face and hands were all in some slimy filth. The first cry came from the wardrobe. I didn't do anything to Judith, having decided that waking up in the closet on a hanger was fun enough. And now I have received a worthy confirmation of my thoughts.

Then I searched for Julius with my eyes. He sat in the corner, looking flabbergasted at what he woke up with – a huge teddy bear.

"Thomas," he muttered, "Thomas, ich traue meinen Augen kaum!"*

After some thought, I pointed my wand at the bear and whispered:

"Finite Incantatem."

Right before the eyes of the astonished head boy, the toy turned into the Wine Spring. Julius rubbed his eyes and then sighed with relief.

The next moment, everyone somehow noticed me all at once.

"'Mione, untangle us, please!" Claudia asked in a pleading voice.

"Oh, Hermione, thank Merlin!" Dick exclaimed at the same time.

Emile, who was staring at his hands in horror, looked up at me with a silent plea in his eyes.

"It appears you had a good time yesterday," I sniggered while removing the spells from Claudia and Jason, and then from Dick's laces too.

After that I approached Emile and, taking a swipe of mucus from his hands – as if for inspection – I said:

"Don't worry, it's just Claudia's face gel. It has a wonderful ability to absorb poorly."

With one swing of my wand, I ridded Emile of that slime on his face and turned to the wardrobe, from which some panting sounded.

The second after I rescued Judith from the closet, Terry came out of the bathroom. He had a mop in his hands.

"Who did this?" he asked demandingly.

"Did we make a mess in the bathroom?" Dick asked in surprise. "Just don't scold us for it. We won't do that again."

"No, it was me who made a mess," Terry answered irritably, "I ask who glued the mop to my hand?"

For a moment there was silence in the room and then everyone laughed.

"You think that's funny?" Terry exclaimed. "It doesn't come off!"

"I ask just out of curiosity," Dick said mockingly, "did you try using your wand?"

"Of course, I did, I'm not an idiot," Terry responded and disappeared into the bathroom.

A few seconds later he came back.

"It still doesn't come off," he stated.

There were a few chuckles. Dick, having already untied himself, looked at Terry thoughtfully.

"Did you get that I meant witchcraft, and not trying to pick the mop away with your wand...?"

"Yes, I did! What should I do?"

"I don't know," Dick replied, although it was obvious that he knew the spell that was used, "I'm a specialist in Transfiguration, not in Charms."

"Troll knows what!" Terry exclaimed and disappeared into the bathroom once again.

I looked around the room and asked:

"Why did you all sleep here?"

"When the party in the courtyard was drawing to a close," Claudia began explaining, at the same time trying to sort out at least some of the mess in the room, "Jason and I, and..." she looked around, "Dick, and... Emile, and-and-and... ah, Julius, decided to continue here. Gina and Judith first went up to their rooms, but then they also somehow ended up here. And then Terry latched on to Gina. We hung out for a while, and then I don't remember, because Jason and I fell asleep, and woke up attached to each other. By the way, who tied us up?"

No one answered. After a long pause, Dick said:

"I couldn't, I was bound to the bed."

"And I was in the wardrobe, to begin with – what idiot hung me there?" Judith asked angrily, stretching her back.

Julius guffawed, but when several pairs of eyes looked at him suspiciously, he spoke hurriedly:

"But I didn't do anything with the others! I woke up after everyone else with... with... with the Wine Spring in an embrace."

Now all gazes shifted to Emile. He looked back at everyone in fright and then glanced at me.

"No, Emile was actually the last one to wake up," I had to admit.

"Then it's McPherson!" Claudia exclaimed.

"With a mop in hand?"

Everyone furrowed the brow thoughtfully. Then, they looked at me almost simultaneously.

"What? I wasn't here in the first place. I came when you have woken up already."

At that moment Gina entered the room.

"Who slept today on my bed and left a book there?" she asked.

I said nothing.

"What book?" Claudia demanded, looking at me.

Gina turned the volume to see its cover and read:

"Kafka 'The Castle'".

"Hermione!" Claudia shouted. "Hermione's reading it! You!" she came closer, pointing at me with her finger accusingly. "You returned early, messed with us, and went to sleep in Gina's room."

Everyone gave me a dirty look.

"And do you know that in fifteen minutes all of you need to be in Merlin's Campus to prepare the conference?" I asked, and everyone immediately forgot about my tricks.

Claudia cried out and started to usher everyone out of the room because she needed to get dressed – she was supposed to help the organizers in one of the sections. Emile rushed out of the room with a similar cry, as he had even more important duties. Gina ran out after him, thrusting Kafka into my hands. Julius and Judith dashed into the corridor with her. Dick and Jason leisurely gathered their stuff and left the room too.

I started tiding up while Claudia was getting ready. A few seconds after she had retired to the bathroom, I heard screams coming from there, and then a frightened Terry jumped out, still with a mop in his hand. Taking mercy upon him, I muttered an unsticking spell, which Terry didn't notice though, and finally, the last guest left our humble abode. Finally, I was able to catch a break. Having cleaned up a bit, I went to the Chocolate Frog to have a cup of coffee and eat something tasty – since it was Sunday, breakfast was going to start only in an hour and I was really hungry already.

Then I headed to Merlin's Campus. My responsibilities as an organizer were limited to checking whether everything was going as it was supposed to. Due to my participation, it so happened that the main difficulties fell to the lot of Emile and his assistants.

I went past the sections, made sure that there were no real problems, and, having chosen a section I was interested in, took the best seat in the audience and settled to wait for the guests and speakers to come and the reports to begin.

The same evening, Claudia forced me to tell her how the dinner in the restaurant went and why I didn't spend the night in the dormitories. I told her almost the whole truth, leaving out a small strip show because I knew how many unnecessary questions and raptures it would cause.

"So, now you do see that I was right?" Claudia asked when I finished the story.

"Right?" I exclaimed. "Claudia, haven't you listened to me? I told you, he tried... tried to make me think that he liked me."

"Why?"

"Well... we didn't have time to discuss that," I replied perplexedly.

"You just don't know the answer!"

It was hard to argue here.

"You don't know it, because there is none," my friend announced.

"If I don't know something, it doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

"You don't say! Then tell me what it is that you don't know?"

This question baffled me.

"Claudia, how can I tell you something I don't know about?"

"Because there is no such thing!"

I exhaled a sigh.

"I can't argue with your logic," I said.

Claudia gave me a pleased smile, but then remembered the topic of our conversation and her face became more serious.

"There is yet another point. Veans let you think that he on purpose tried to make you think that he likes you. That is, he kind of gave you a reason to think so. Intentionally. What does it mean?"

I shrugged wearily.

"It means he was afraid that he looks too intrusive, and that it's obvious to everyone that he likes you. Including you. And, per the plans that only he knows, he decided to pretend that it was his intention to create such an impression."

"Why on Earth would he do that?" I exclaimed, my only wish for Claudia to calm down.

"Well ... apparently, you gave him a reason to think that you don't care about him, and he decided to cover his tracks, so to speak. I mean, he didn't want it to look as if you had dumped him. Do you get it?"

"No, I don't get it. We weren't dating to be able to dump each other. All right, Claudia, that's enough. I'm tired."

With these words, I got into my bed, hoping to fall asleep as soon as possible. But the memories of the morning in the professor's house and the last evening, as well as Claudia's words haunted me. Only closer to the morning, I decided that I would act according to the principle which I always used while managing my personal life – I'll leave things to chance.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

17th of December, Friday:

Two weeks passed as in a dream for me. The conference was over, and then the pre-exam week began, followed by the exams themselves.

I almost didn't see Professor Veans but in those moments when we met, we both behaved as if nothing had happened. And by 'nothing had happened' I mean not only the restaurant and what happened after that, but everything – our project, the conference, our first trip to the restaurant, our interaction. The professor studiously demonstrated to me that I was just an ordinary student to him, much like everyone else, and I answered him with being equally studious in demonstrating my satisfaction with that course of things. I wasn't going to show him how it worried me that our friendship of sorts ended like this. Now there was no way I would let him know how I sometimes craved for his company.

I passed all the exams perfectly, despite it being very difficult sometimes: during the semester I didn't study hard enough, contributing too much time to recreation, and paid dearly for that during the pre-exam week, having to spend all my time and all my strength on preparation.

But fortunately, now it was all over.

Claudia was also content with her results, as she didn't once fail. That was what she hurried to tell me on Friday evening.

"And tomorrow we'll whoop it up!"

I looked at her apathetically.

"Hurray," I uttered without a single emotion.

"Come on, cheer up. The exams are over, we can hang out here for a whole week, and then it's Christmas and holidays!"

"Cool," I replied indifferently.

I was lying on the bed trying to read a book but, as usual, it was impossible for Claudia to give me a moment of calm when I needed it so much.

"What's the matter with you? Everything is great!"

I made a mumbling sound agreeably and turned the page.

"And, by the way, you still didn't ask how we're going to celebrate the end of the term!"

"And how are we going to celebrate the end of the term?"

"I'm glad you asked," Claudia answered, ignoring the complete lack of interest in my voice.

She flopped down on my bed so that I flew up almost a foot, and began to tell:

"We decided to go somewhere far away from the uni. In some super-duper interesting place. Finding it turned out to be quite difficult but we still did it. And can you guess where we're going?!"

"Claudia, don't jump, I can't read when you shake the bed. And no, I have no idea where we're going."

"To Eberdorf!"

I felt Claudia's expectative gaze on me and so I glanced up from the book. Looking into the eyes of my friend, I saw there such enthusiasm, such indescribable joy, that I couldn't help but smile.

"A good choice, indeed."

"It's not just a good choice, it's the best choice we could make! There are next to none magic villages in the world. And, besides that, Eberdorf is located in Bavaria, where Julius is from. Remember, he told us about white sausages? Bavaria is the only country where they're made!"

"Claudia, Bavaria is a part of Germany. It's not a country."

"Really? Well, of course, I know that. I meant that Bavaria is _in_ the only country where they're made."

"I figured as much."

"Tomorrow morning, we'll get up reeeeeally early, have a snack at the Chocolate Frog and go to the city. From the Floo Hall, we'll move to the Arrivals Room in Eberdorf. There we'll have to fill out some papers stating that we're on German soil and-and-and-and we'll be free to walk, eat sausages, drink beer and sing 'O du lieber Augustin' for the whole village to hear! Oh, and grab the money to pay for international travel."

I nodded, and Claudia finally left me alone, moving on to the selection of the outfit for the next day.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

18th of December, Saturday:

The next morning, we got up at nine o'clock – 'reeeeeally early', according to Claudia – quickly got ready and went out into the courtyard. Jason, Julius, Judith, Dick, and Emile were already waiting for us there. I was surprised to see the latter one, but it turned out that he was invited by Dick and Jason. Then again, I didn't care whether he was with us or not, because now I didn't even feel sorry for him. If he fell in love with me, those were his problems and I wasn't going to babysit him, 'spare his feelings' and so on. No one spared mine.

The guys walked to the city talking, laughing loudly and constantly interrupting each other. I plodded along, having no mood to join their conversation. The feeling of alienation enveloped me once again; I couldn't and didn't want to fight it. At that very moment, I once again realized how particularly lonely a person feels in a big company. I felt so much more comfortable being one on one with someone. For example, with Professor Veans! But I made a promise to myself not to think about it, so on our way, I entertained myself with counting the grammatical mistakes Claudia was making. No, I didn't judge her for them; although she spoke English very well, it wasn't her mother language. I just needed something to occupy myself with.

After a surprisingly long line in the Floo Hall, transition and tedious check-in at the Arrivals Room in Eberdorf, 'the fun began'.

After lunch at the nice restaurant "Huhn und Hahn", my mood improved noticeably, and I even began to take part in the conversations. Having eaten, we went for a walk along the paved central street, where shops and cafes were located. Claudia bought herself all sorts of trifles like hairbands, self-filling beer mugs, and shepherd girls figures, which sang German songs. The boys were more interested in German sweets. Judith spent most of her time in clothing stores. I didn't speak German, so I couldn't amuse myself with a visit to the bookstore and had to tail after now Claudia, now Jason and Dick, now everyone at once, when guys jumped out of different shops, meeting on the street and wildly rejoicing at that fact. At some point, I too started to enjoy this unhurried walk; the German speech heard everywhere and local traditional music, the smells of smoked meat and the signs above every second tavern that read "Das beste Bier Deutschlands!"**.

Suddenly, a pair near the jewellery store caught my attention. First off, I recognized the woman — it was Professor Veans's sister! There could be no mistake. Then I froze in the middle of the street, seeing that the professor himself was standing next to her. The guys went ahead, not noticing me falling behind, and I couldn't take my eyes off of the couple.

The professor was hugging his sister by the waist, looking at her in anything but a brotherly way. Miss Veans touched the golden pendant on her chest, with no much success trying to get a view of it. They both laughed, and the next moment the young woman passionately kissed Professor Veans on the lips.

 _"So, a sister, you say?!"_ I thought.

The couple went up the street in the direction opposite to mine, never noticing me. I stood still for a few more seconds, and then slowly walked toward the side where my friends left. I was surprised, insulted and offended.

It wasn't that it turned out Professor Veans had someone else, or rather, simply had someone. Well, not only about that. But he deceived me! He lied deliberately, making me think... making me believe... It was so vile, so low on his part!

Still unable to believe what I just saw, what I just found out, I tried to hide from the guys for a while to recover. After sitting a little on the bench, I was able to regain my senses, and only after that, I found Claudia. She didn't suspect anything.

Needless to say, the rest of the trip, no matter how exciting it was, didn't bring me any joy.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

20th of December, Monday:

On Monday, we no longer had classes but we could still stay at the university, finishing our studies, devoting ourselves to writing course works, or in my case, a diploma, or just getting in the way of friends that were busy doing important things, as Claudia did.

That day I went to the library, not suspecting a thing. It was an ordinary day of an ordinary week of an ordinary month, the same as all the other months that I was to spend alone.

But fate the mocker didn't favour me too much, because on that very day, just two days after the incident in Ebersdorf, I had to meet Professor Veans face to face.

We bumped into each other near one of the shelves almost at the farthest end of the library hall. Both seemed to feel awkward but something prevented Veans from pretending not to notice me, as he had been doing for the past two weeks.

"Miss Granger, good afternoon," he greeted.

"Good afternoon," I tried to respond politely but it didn't come out quite right.

"Not for you, it seems," the professor replied, his eyebrows flying up questioningly.

It looked so cute that I almost smiled. But I managed to get a grip on myself just in time.

"It's not any worse than every other day of my life, sir," I answered evenly, looking at the backs of the books.

The professor also turned to the shelves, studying them intently. However, as it turned out, the conversation wasn't over.

"Working on your diploma?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I replied dryly.

"And how is it going?"

"Satisfactory, sir."

The professor was silent for a moment. With my peripheral vision, I noticed that he was examining me out of the corner of his eye.

"I heard you passed all the exams with straight A's?" he said matter-of-factly.

"It was hard to expect anything else," I answered, having decided not to add the annoying 'sir' at least to this sentence.

"Of course, of course... and what then, when do you intend to leave university?"

I sighed crustily, raising my eyes up as if in asking the heavens how many more questions Veans was going to ask.

"On the twenty-third, sir."

"I see."

A few seconds passed in silence. I continued to look for the right book and finally found it. But at the same very moment when my hand reached out to it, Professor Veans's hand did the same. His palm covered mine exactly on the spine of an ancient volume, which gave me a start. The professor, who, it seemed, also didn't expect this, however, was in no hurry to remove his hand from mine.

"Sir..." I began, when the pause got too long.

"Well, Miss Granger, have you already answered Professor Rostov on his proposal?" Veans inquired, still pressing my hand to the book.

I wanted to answer that it was of no concern to him but that would be too rude. After all, he was my teacher, although we both seemed to forget about that too often.

"I also received an offer from Salem University, and I promised both sides to think."

"Think about which one to accept, or think whether to accept at all?" the professor asked quietly.

He got a little closer to me and I tried to pull away. However, my hand was still in his power.

"Sir, I... I'm still not sure of anything."

"Remember, Miss Granger," the professor said in a low, as if foreign voice, "you can always stay here at the university and start teaching."

Goosebumps ran down my spine. I froze, my gaze darting between the frayed backs of the books and the large male hand covering my delicate fingers.

"You can become my assistant, and with your talent, your career will take off as fast as you'd never even dreamed of."

"I'll think about it, sir," I replied, and, having freed myself from his hold, I hastened to leave both the place where we stood and the library altogether.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

21st of December, Tuesday:

The next day I had an appointment with the dean. Professor Pitch decided, out of her old habit, to receive me at her home, and I was very worried that I might run into Professor Veans. Fortunately, it didn't happen. And fortunately, the dean chose not to have tea on the shared terrace. Instead, we settled in her living room, where we discussed my diploma while sipping tea with milk.

"...and since you decided to choose Professor Veans as your mentor," Professor Pitch said, "I cannot help you as I did before..."

 _"That is, 'not at all',"_ I commented in the privacy of my mind.

"...but Perseus is also a good enough potioneer. You just have to take into account the differences between the term paper and the graduation one. That's what I invited you for. It's important for me what a diploma you'll write, even though you have chosen another person as an advisor, much less experienced in such matters than I am. I won't stand in your way, it's against my principles. On the contrary, I'm ready to help with a piece of valuable advice. I already told Professor Veans about the rules that must be followed. I've already met with him twice to discuss everyone who writes term papers and diplomas under his guidance. Last week, we had lunch right here at my place, and he really praised my pudding. But back then we didn't discuss everything that I wanted. And on Saturday we were interrupted – just when we were having lunch, Nerida contacted me by the Floo. She just had the last stage of the Miss Potions contest held by her university that day, and she'd won. I was so glad – although I expected her to win, she always was very beautiful – that I could no longer discuss matters with Perseus. But he sat for a little while and talked with me about my daughter. He viewed all her photographs and admitted that she really deserved the title of Miss Potions. I think that soon we'll discuss the issue of your diploma again, but I decided to also talk with you because this concerns you too."

I hardly listened to what Professor Pitch was saying after the words 'on Saturday we were interrupted - just when we were having lunch'. This phrase caused some dissonance in my mind, although it took me some time to understand what exactly was wrong with it.

"When did you say was the last time you've met with Professor Veans?" I asked.

The dean looked at me in surprise but replied:

"Last Saturday, Miss Granger. Why does it matter?"

"Oh, it's just that I was sure that I saw him at lunchtime on Saturday in a completely different place."

"No," Professor Pitch said confidently, "that's quite impossible because he has been here on the campus all day. Before our meeting, he sat in the library, then he dined with me and left with Professor Olivier, who came to me for... what did he come for? Ah, they played whist, and they needed a fourth player. I'm not a fan of these games but Professor Veans agreed to go. And they spent the whole evening at Olivier's, I saw them through the window, they were sitting on the veranda."

I felt as if a bucket of cold water had poured over me. The pieces of the puzzle began fitting together at an incredible speed.

A Polyjuice potion... modified one... this strange behaviour... constant rush if he lingered too long after the lecture...

 _"I did tell you that I asked Dad about him, and he said that Veans didn't study at Stonehenge"._

 _"Miss Granger… never again enter my house unless I invite you."_

 _"My dear child, I'm sure there are plenty of people whom you only see three hours a day."_

 _"Talking of this Veans of yours. Strange guy. Who is he? Where did he come from? Such brains and never once appeared even at the most worthless conference. A natural from upcountry, or was he hit on the head and he suddenly woke up to potions talent?"_

 _"On Saturday we were interrupted - just when we were having lunch."_

 _"Last Saturday, Miss Granger."_

 _"He has been here on the campus all day."_

I didn't immediately hear that Professor Pitch was calling for me. Having replied something unintelligible, I hastened to leave her house. However, having gone out onto the porch, I didn't hurry to leave. After a little thought, I knocked on the next door – Professor Veans's door, if that really was his name.

Luck was on my side. The professor wasn't at home, but when I realized that and turned around, I saw him walking along the path in my direction. When he caught up with me, he greeted me, but I wasn't going to let him go that easily. In front of me stood a man who for four months fooled everyone around, taking the Polyjuice Potion and passing himself as Perseus Veans.

"Professor," I said demandingly when he opened the door, "can I come in? I need to talk to you urgently. It's very important."

Veans seemed confused for a moment, but then took a step to the side and allowed me to get into the house. I entered the living room and sat in one of the armchairs. The professor sat opposite me and stared at me questioningly.

"I'd like to discuss my project with you."

Veans's eyebrows shot up.

"Is it really that urgent?"

"Yes, sir. The matter brooks no delay."

"Well, in that case, please excuse me for a minute, I'll..."

He began to rise from his chair but I abruptly got up from my own and stopped him with an imperative gesture of my hand.

"No, I can't wait even a second. We'll talk right here and right now."

Veans looked at me suspiciously.

"Okay," I said a bit softer, "I lied. It's not the project I wanted to talk with you about."

"And what about, then?" the professor asked, and my attentive gaze didn't fail to notice as he glanced briefly at the clock.

"I wanted to talk about... us!" I blurted out.

"About us?" he marvelled.

"That's right. You see, siiir," I began in my dullest voice, "the circumstances we both found ourselves in, the situation we both were drawn into by the will of fate, in other words, everything that happened between us during the time of your teaching here, that is, from the first of September of this year to the present day, all this, I admit to you honestly, without keeping anything back, not hiding anything and baring my soul utterly and completely, so that there isn't even a piece of it hidden from your observant eyes..."

I could go on like that forever, and Veans realized that. He got up from his chair, and I was forced to fall silent.

"All this is very exciting," the professor said almost angrily, "but I have to leave you for just a minute."

"I can't let you do that," I said.

"And why is that?"

 _"Because I have to make sure that my theory is correct without fear of embarrassing myself with false accusations. And in case I'm right – find out who is hiding under this beautiful appearance!"_ I thought, but out loud I said:

"Because I... because I... it's very difficult for me to confess it to you..."

"Miss Granger," Veans growled, and in one motion came almost to grips with me.

Having grabbed my chin, he looked into my eyes. It seemed to me that this contact lasted forever, while in fact less than a second passed.

"Miss Granger, let me through," then Veans said in a surprisingly quiet voice.

I shook my head. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I was confused for a moment, and the professor took advantage of that by going around me and running to the door. I bolted after him.

"Professor Veans," exclaimed the young man who stood on the threshold, "There's Professor Pitch! I was at her place, and... she's sick!... help!"

It seemed that the guy was on the verge of hysteria.

"I'll just take the potions," Veans replied, disappearing in the storeroom.

After a few seconds, he darted back, and after another moment he was already in Professor Pitch's chambers. I wanted to go after him to find out what happened but the door turned out to be locked.

I realized that today I won't get anything from Professor Veans and wandered off to the dormitories.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

22nd of December, Wednesday:

The next day I found out that Professor Pitch was sent to St. Mungo – she had a fit of illness that had been bothering her for several years, and if it weren't for Professor Veans, this time it could have ended very badly.

I felt sorry for the dean, but I was much more concerned with the question of who was hiding behind the mask of Professor Veans. I had almost no doubts that this person really was taking Polyjuice Potion. On the contrary, during the night from Tuesday to Wednesday I managed to recall all the cases that my new knowledge has thrown another light on. I really couldn't remember a single time that I saw him for more than two hours in a row before our discovery, and – what a coincidence – for longer than three after.

But when on Wednesday I went to Professors' Campus to find Veans, I was informed that he had already gone home for the Christmas holidays. I was fuming. He slipped away, having realized that I had almost blown his cover. However, I hoped that he was going to return after the holidays.

Of course, I was afraid to learn who he really was. First of all, he most probably was some escaped Death Eater – not all of them were caught – or just a criminal. After all, innocent people just don't drink Polyjuice Potion for almost half a year.

I involuntarily thought of the false Moody. How could I be so stupid and inattentive, and didn't figure it out sooner? And the fact that Veans was working on a modified Polyjuice Potion should have alerted me...

However, there were even more terrible options of who Professor Veans could be besides a criminal or a Death Eater. He could turn out to be an elderly gentleman, or, Merlin forbid – a woman! Then my pride would be thrown into the dirt, I would be feeling as humiliated as I've never been, and my heart would be broken once again. It would be better if he was a male criminal, such a blow would be much easier to deal with.

Unfortunately, I had to be torturing myself with guesses and assumptions for a very long time.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

23rd of December, Thursday:

On Thursday evening we – Claudia, Dick, Jason and I – took the train to London. There on the platform nine and three quarters I was met by Harry, Ron, and Ginny. I was very glad to see them since the last time we saw each other was a very long time ago. Having said goodbyes to my friends from the university, my dear Gryffindors and I went to Grimmauld Place to prepare for Christmas celebration. According to Ginny, a large company of old friends from Hogwarts was expected, and I really looked forward to seeing them all.

*Thomas, Thomas, I don't believe my eyes! – translation from German.

**The best beer in Germany. – translation from German.

* * *

 **T/N:** Sorry for the delay and thank you for staying with this story. You are very welcome to leave a review, they really keep me going.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author:** Cait Sith. Permission for translation was granted.

 **Beta:** Many thanks to my beta Zooobly :)

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JKR and I make no money from this fanfic.

 **T/N:** This chapter is ridiculously long, I hope it'll compensate for the long wait. Enjoy!

* * *

 **My Universities**

 **Chapter 10**

" _Maybe God wants us to meet a few wrong people before meeting the right one so that when we finally meet the right person, we will know how to be grateful for that gift."_

 _Gabriel García Márquez_

9th of January, Sunday:

January 9th was the last day of winter break. By that time, I was already staying at my parents' – I parted with Harry, Ron, and Ginny back on the 5th.

Christmas was indeed merry. Many visited Grimmauld Place: Lavender, née Brown, with her husband, the Patil sisters, Neville with Luna, Dean Thomas with his girlfriend and on New Year even Professor McGonagall came over. The rest, non-holiday days, I spent in the company of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. We went to see the Weasley family in the Burrow, came for a short stay to Hogwarts, where we had a good time talking with teachers, drank tea at Hagrid's and visited Professor Snape's grave.

In the evenings, the boys played chess or sat over some kind of educational material given at their Auror Training, and Ginny and I discussed her upcoming wedding with Harry. We thumbed through, probably, a hundred catalogues of wedding dresses, talked over the guest list, thought through the ceremony itself and drafted the text for the invitations.

However, in all this sweet fuss, in all those memories of the days passed, I was always keeping Professor Veans in mind. Sometimes I managed not to think about him when other emotions overwhelmed me but later my thoughts returned to the mysterious teacher again.

I tried to logically figure out who he really was, but of all the living wizards, I could hardly remember even one whose level of skill in Potions was as high as his. The conclusion to be drawn was that I simply didn't know the person hiding behind the identity of Professor Veans. But then why did I have this feeling that we had known each other before?

──────── • ✤ • ────────

10th of January, Monday:

On Monday, the 10th, I returned to the university. First of all, I went to the stand with the timetable. As for the lectures, there weren't so many of them planned in the second semester since it was assumed that we would commit ourselves to writing a diploma paper and preparing for the certification exam. The ones that were put in the schedule looked more like trying to give us the opportunity to review the already covered material since all the subjects were summarizing.

But that wasn't what interested me at all. My eyes were immediately drawn to the consultation schedule. The column next to Professor Veans's name said 'Friday'. I grimaced vexedly — I had to wait for full five days!

I decided that I simply wasn't able to be on tenterhooks for so long. Having asked Claudia, who stuck to me like a leech because she 'missed me so terribly', to hold me a seat in the Chocolate Frog, I went to the Professors' campus.

Walking through the Professors' garden – now with ice-glazed yellow grass and bare trees – I wrapped myself up in a warm cloak and prayed to all the known gods for Veans to be at home.

However, my pleas weren't heard. The professor didn't respond for a long time, and then the next door opened and I saw my dean.

"Miss Granger, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, good afternoon, ma'am," I stepped away from Veans's door and approached Professor Pitch. "I wanted to talk to Professor Veans about my graduation thesis. His consultation is scheduled only for Friday but I really wanted to discuss something right now."

"But he won't show up here until Friday."

"Oh, what a pity!" I answered in all sincerity.

"What did you want to talk about?" Professor Pitch inquired. "I could help you."

"No, no, it's okay... by the way, how are you feeling? I heard what happened to you before Christmas, and I was very worried."

The dean immediately forgot about her intention to talk about my paper and went on describing her misadventures in detail. I patiently listened to everything that she wanted to say, although I got quite cold standing on the doorstep – I didn't want to cast a warming spell, as that might have looked like a demonstration of my unwillingness to continue the conversation. But finally, Pitch talked herself out and said that she needed to go since Nerida was supposed to give her a Floo call soon – her daughter was very worried about her mother's health condition, and even planned to visit her but her university didn't let her go because she was a too valuable employee.

I politely bid farewell to the dean and left.

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11th of January, Tuesday:

On Tuesday, I needed to go to the city to buy some new quills. Claudia had some plans with Jason, so she couldn't accompany me.

Walking past Triffany College, I saw Dick in the company of young men. At some point, I hoped that he didn't notice me or that he would pretend that he didn't notice, but he waved at me and I was forced to stop. He came closer, greeted me, asked how I was doing and where I was going. Having answered all these questions, I asked similar ones in my turn. At last, the official part was over and we both fell silent. This was the first time we were alone after the kiss, and we felt somewhat awkward.

"By the way, thanks for the Christmas card, it was a cute one," I said to break the silence.

"Oh, no big deal," Dick waved it away.

"I wanted to send one to you too," I lied, "but my friends made me forget about everything. You remember them, Harry, Ron..."

"Yeah, yeah, of course, I do. Very active guys."

I nodded, thereby saying 'I'll give you that'.

"So... then you'll be writing a diploma paper now?" Dick asked, obviously also at a loss for what to say.

"Well, yes, but I have other plans too."

"Really?" Dick happily clung to the topic, and an expression of extreme interest appeared on his face.

I nodded again.

"Just this morning I read at the stand an announcement that our college is going to start some kind of a joined project with Merlin's College. Well, you know, spells and potions always go hand-in-hand."

"Yes," Dick agreed, "potions is actually a discipline that can go well with almost any other one."

"True enough. A year ago, fifth-year students did a project with Cassiopeia College, although one would think potions and astrology have nothing in common!"

"Yeah," Dick drawled.

The conversation clearly was strained. Feeling the need to leave, I said:

"Okay, I'll be on my way. I have a meeting later, and there are always such lines in the Flying Inkwell."

"Yes, that's for sure. Of course. Well, bye."

"Yeah, bye."

And I hurried to leave but the feeling of awkwardness remained with me for quite some time.

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14th of January, Friday:

On Friday, I woke up early in anticipation of meeting Veans. The consultation was to begin at four, and I spent half the day in agonizing waiting. It seemed that the closer the event was, the slower the time flowed.

But finally, the clock on the old tower struck four, and I entered the auditorium. The professor was already there, surrounded by the students.

"Everyone get away from my desk and sit somewhere far off!" came the commanding voice of the professor. "Form a queue and come one at a time."

Here the fuss started, as the guys tried to figure out who had come earlier, or used other arguments, such as age, year, or the importance of their question. All this time I stood aside. In any case, I was the last one.

But then, when all the students had sat down, Veans noticed me. Without giving any sign that my appearance affected him in any way, he began to talk with some fresher.

Consultation with each student took no more than ten minutes, and within an hour he was going to deal with almost everyone who came. However, after about half an hour, three more entered the auditorium.

Veans didn't say anything to them, but I noticed a pleased smirk on his face. I immediately understood what it meant – now I wasn't the last in line and couldn't count on a private conversation. But the professor was celebrating too early. I went to the students who just came in and told them that there was a queue, but I was offering them my place so that I will be the last one to talk to Veans since my consultation could turn out to be quite long. The three of them gladly accepted and I returned to my place contented with myself.

Almost an hour and a half after the beginning, it was the turn of these three guys.

"I think Miss Granger came earlier," Veans said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"But I gave them my place in line, sir," I said, "because I have a lot of questions for you. Why make people wait?"

 _"And you could actually set the time for everyone's consultation individually so that no one would have to sit here for an hour and a half,"_ I thought.

"I find such a turn unfair," the professor replied, "it seems that they will make _you_ wait, while you arrived on time and they were late."

"Thanks for the care, professor, but I really don't mind waiting. I have absolutely nothing to do this evening, and I enjoy being here."

Veans narrowed his eyes. Having thrown me a displeased look, he shifted his gaze to the latecomers. They silently waited for the situation to be resolved.

"Well, if your conscience allows you..." the professor said in a tone that expressed all the contempt he will have for these three if they now agreed to go ahead of me.

"I'm sure," I said in my turn, "that young people are real gentlemen, and they will comply with the lady's request when she asks them to go before her."

Veans gritted his teeth and with a sharp gesture invited one of the guys to sit on a chair next to his desk.

Fifteen minutes later, all three left the auditorium.

"Miss Granger, have a seat," the professor uttered coldly.

I went to his desk and sat on a chair. Now we were face to face with each other.

"So, I'm listening," the professor said, pretending to be engrossed by some papers.

"I have a few questions for you," I replied, "First of all, please tell me where did you study?"

"It seems to me that this question has nothing to do with your graduation work," Veans answered impassively, "if you doubt my competence, you can always change your academic advisor."

"It's something else I doubt, sir," I replied.

"As Goethe said, 'we know with confidence only when we know little; with knowledge doubt increases'," the professor said.

"How long have you been here, sir?" I asked, ignoring his words.

"What do you mean, Miss Granger? Be more specific."

"When I arrived, you were already in the auditorium. How long have you been here?"

"I don't understand what caused such questions," the professor answered, still looking at some parchments, but not really reading them, "I didn't note the time."

"And I think you understand it very well. And I'm sure you did note the time. Professor Veans, there's no need to continue to hide your secret. I know the truth."

The professor finally raised his head and peered at me.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," I answered, "the only thing I don't know is who you really are. And, by the way, before you decide what to do next, I want to say that at this very moment an owl sitting in my room with a message for Harry Potter. It says that Professor Veans isn't who he claims to be, and is actually taking the Polyjuice Potion. It also contains some other important information that will help to expose you. The owl will go to the addressee today at seven p.m. if by this time I wouldn't return to the dorms. Also, there is a duplicate message in a safe place that will be available to my friends in case something happens to me."

The professor leaned back in his chair with a malevolent sneer on his lips and clapped theatrically.

"You think you thought everything through, don't you, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"I think so," I answered harshly, although my insides seemed to freeze.

"Then think again," there was a menace in the professor's voice. "Think about who you should deal with and with whom you shouldn't. You silly, presumptuous girl."

"I demand that you tell me who you really are," I rapped out.

"And may I inquire why should I do this?"

"Perhaps I'll decide that your 'disguise' is justified," I replied. "Perhaps you aren't a criminal at all, but simply a person in need. And then I'll help you. Otherwise, I'll be forced to report you to the Auror Office. I have many acquaintances there, and my friends are also future Aurors. Believe me, you better tell me the truth."

The professor looked at me for a while. I leaned over to him and my hand closed over his soothingly.

"Sir, you really better tell me everything."

The professor stood up, removing my hand from his. I got up too.

"Fine, come to my house tomorrow and we'll talk there in a calm atmosphere."

"No, that won't do, sir! I have to know today!"

"Miss Granger," the professor left the table and began pushing me towards the exit, "have patience. I will be waiting for you tomorrow at two p.m."

"I don't trust you. You'll run away again," I resisted.

"I promise I won't disappear, and we'll talk tomorrow."

"How can I believe you when all your life here is a hoax, and all you do is..."

The professor interrupted my speech. Having grabbed me by the waist so that my feet left the floor, he carried me out into the hall, lowered me to the ground and closed the door to the auditorium right in front of my nose.

I gritted my teeth in frustration but decided not to persist and went to the dorms. In the end, now Professor Veans was cornered.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

15th of January, Saturday:

On Saturday morning I received an owl from Professor Veans. In his letter, he stated concisely the desire to see me in his house at one fifty-three, and not a minute later. I sent him an owl with a no less laconic answer, indicating my agreement.

Sure enough, such a message indicated that the professor really intended to talk with me, and wasn't somewhere on his way to Jamaica. That inspired certain hopes. It meant that he really wasn't a deadly criminal who had something to fear. Or he was stupid to the extreme and thought that I couldn't do him any harm. That would be a mistake, I must note. However, during our acquaintance, he proved himself to be an intelligent and insightful person. An inner voice whispered, that this was precisely why I should be more careful, but my confidence in my own ingenuity drowned out that warning whisper.

I intentionally left early and walked around the Professors' garden for about twenty minutes, trying to calm my own nerves and think through all the possible outcomes of today's conversation.

Finally, it was time to go to Veans. My nerves didn't actually calm down during the short walk, and after all, I had to pull out a Gulp of Tranquillity from my pocket – a muddy green potion with a pleasant smell of a lemon balm. I took it with me in case of emergency, and, in the end, I realized that this was an emergency. The effect of the Gulp was immediate: it became easier to breathe, my neck and back relaxed a bit, and my stomach stopped cramping unpleasantly. Now I was really ready to face the unknown.

At exactly eight minutes to two – I checked the clock on the Old Tower – I knocked on an already familiar wooden door of the caramelized milk colour. The professor opened almost instantly. He silently invited me to go into the living room, where I took one of the armchairs. Veans, as usual, sat across from me.

"So, you know everything," he said without further ado.

I nodded.

"I was sure that you would understand everything much earlier with that much-vaunted intellect of yours," the professor said coldly and in a tone so different from Veans's. "But, obviously, you aren't smart enough to solve such a riddle without accidentally meeting my 'doppelgänger' ."

"But how could I... how can you know? How do you know about Ebersdorf?" I exclaimed, realizing that I had never said anything about the encounter in Germany.

"I learned about it back then when you've been in this room last time trying to expose me in the stupidest way possible," Veans said and a discontented grimace appeared on his handsome face. "Truth be told, I questioned your common sense at the time, but when you came to my consultation, armed to the teeth, with threats and the Tracking Potion... those scraps of respect that I had towards you returned to their place."

"You spotted the Tracking Potion," I said quietly.

"Of course, Miss Granger, I spotted the Tracking Potion," he replied, emphasizing the second part of the sentence. "Might I remind you that I'm a potioneer? Even though you don't know where I studied, there's no way you missed that fact. A Polyjuice Potion doesn't give any special talents along with the look, so rest assured that my skill in potions doesn't leave me with this appearance."

When speaking of 'this appearance', Veans grimaced again, letting me know that he didn't like his current look.

"Besides that, Miss Granger," the professor continued, leaning back in his armchair, "I'm a good enough judge of character to understand that you aren't one of those who will just grab your teacher's hand. That gesture was so out of place that I thought it necessary to check the skin of my hand for the presence of any undesirable substances," Veans paused for a moment. "Sly, but not enough, Miss Granger... If not for the complete satisfaction with the life that I have here and the confidence that you won't cause me any trouble, I would have easily disappeared from England, and you would never have known who your mysterious professor Veans really was."

"Tracking Potion cannot be removed for two days," I said confidently.

"I can assure you otherwise," the professor replied dryly. "The special nature of my activities included the need for an anti-tracking potion, which I devoted almost a year of my life to."

"Oh my God, who are you?" I exclaimed.

Some potioneer genius who worked as a secret agent and now is hiding from the authorities? Or from criminals? Or from both at the same time?

"I was sure that once you knew I was taking the Polyjuice Potion, you would immediately figure it out. Obviously, I overestimated you after all."

I pursed my lips discontentedly. Then I replied:

"How could I do that? I know nothing about you!"

"Absolutely?" the professor asked, one eyebrow raised inquiringly.

"Sir, I understand that now you have three hours to talk but enough of these verbal games," I said almost calmly.

Although, if not for the Gulp of Tranquillity, I probably would have had a fit of hysterics by now. On the other hand, if it weren't for it, I would have been thinking much faster – the potion had a negative side effect of slightly slowing mental processes.

"I took the potion at exactly eleven a.m.," the professor answered me. "With the strike of the clock, my appearance will change and everything will be revealed."

I rolled my eyes.

"I've never noticed before that you had such a love for dramatic effects."

Veans simply watched me.

"And yet you say that you don't know anything about me," he said after a few seconds of silence.

I sighed wearily.

"You teach Potions," I replied as if saying a tedious lesson. "You're a real genius in the subject, but it doesn't help much. The only potioneer whose talent could compare with yours should have died a little more than ten years ago at the age of six hundred and sixty-six since he destroyed the philosopher's stone which sustained his life."

"I like your comparison with Nicolas Flamel but it has absolutely nothing to do with the matter."

My shoulders dropped. I couldn't let myself fail at solving the riddle before the truth became too obvious but I had absolutely no ideas.

"Could it be that you really won't find the answer by yourself?" Veans asked as if echoing my thoughts.

"I will!" I replied, my brain working feverishly.

"But I know nothing about you," I whispered desperately a few seconds later.

"I can't agree with you," Professor Veans retorted, curiosity written on his face.

"Veans!" suddenly something clicked in my mind.

"I know your name," I muttered.

The professor tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Perseus Veans..."

I took a wand out of my sleeve and in the air drew the luminous letters of the professor's name. Without taking my eyes off of them, I began to slowly move them, trying to put them in a new order. Not quite believing what was happening, I made a name.

"Severus," came my whisper.

Then the surname.

"Snape."

At that moment, the bell rang on the Old Tower and the face of the man sitting opposite me – such a beautiful face! – began to change, as if someone invisible was kneading it.

I grimaced – the sight wasn't a pleasant one. Though the professor himself wasn't having a good time too. I remembered my own transformation from the Polyjuice Potion – it was a rather painful experience.

Finally, before me appeared a man, whom I never expected to see here – to ever see again!

Could one imagine a surprise bigger than I felt at that moment? It was a shock, an astonishment... I just couldn't believe my eyes.

"But how?" I blurted out.

"What exactly 'how'?" sarcastically asked – oh gods! – Professor Snape.

There was a giggle, then a loud laugh – this was the way out that my emotions found when I heard that all-too-familiar voice.

When the professor rose from his chair, I raised my hands to my face in defence and said:

"Please, don't slap me!"

The professor was taken aback.

"Why would I slap you?" he asked.

My lips twitched. I dropped my hands.

"It's just that when people get hysterical, they're sometimes slapped," I answered.

"Are you hysterical?" Snape inquired, slowly sitting back in his armchair.

"I don't know anymore. I think I lost my mind."

Then I pressed my palm to my lips and felt tears building up in the corners of my eyes. Everything around became cloudy but I still saw that the professor was watching me.

"Your reaction is extreme. Did you take anything before coming to me?" he asked.

"Extreme? And what is considered a 'normal' reaction in this situation?" I inquired and then added. "And explain to me, how? You're... you're dead! I myself," here tears rolled down my cheeks, "I myself visited your grave on the Christmas holidays."

"What a touching concern for my humble person."

"Obviously, you're alive..."

"Obviously."

I sighed in relief internally – I was still afraid that what I saw in front of me was some kind of a ghost who drank some modified potion, which the professor apparently had plenty in his arsenal.

"How to explain this? That is, I didn't actually see your body..." with these words I blushed untimely, "but the Shrieking Shack had burned down, so it's quite logical. And the Aurors documented the presence of your remains."

A shiver ran through my body – it was so strange and unpleasant to talk about it.

"The little toe of the left foot," Snape answered dryly.

My eyes widened in horror.

"You deliberately… left it," the professor snorted, "and set fire to the shack so that we would assume you burned up in the blaze but you actually fled somewhere in the meanwhile?" I asked.

The answer was a brief nod and the words:

"You demonstrate the wonders of deduction, miss."

"Wait, but what about the snake? I saw myself how it bit you, how you, well, lost consciousness. You appeared to be dead."

"Well, I think some explanations still would be in order," Snape replied with a sigh. "I suppose you noticed that I'm trying to prepare potions for all possible occasions? That snake never exactly instilled me with trust. The antidote that I created to its poison is absorbed through the blood. All I had to do was crush the phial that I had in my pocket – and within an hour after the bite, I was able to think through an action plan and execute it."

"But why do all this? I mean... Oh! Because you're accused of murdering Professor Dumbledore," I answered myself.

"Besides, I'm a former Death Eater," the professor reminded me.

"And there's no evidence of your innocence..."

"...since I _am_ guilty..."

"This is horrible..." I uttered. "You don't deserve to be treated like this..."

"Your compassion cannot but delight," the professor spoke venomously.

I leaned forward.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked. "Until recently, you were calmly talking to me, and now that I've found out the truth, when you don't need to hide anything from me, you're acting... acting..."

"Choose your words carefully, Miss Granger," Professor Snape warned. "I'm still your teacher."

"All this time that you were here," I said, ignoring his words, "you acted... like a human being. Sometimes I didn't understand you, sometimes you did something that just puzzled me. But you weren't the unbearable savage, that insensitive person you're trying to be now. Why are you doing this? I... I won't harm you, there is no need to treat me like this."

"You won't harm me – how kind of you to promise me that. However, Miss Granger, you, as bright as you are, must understand that the real me is who you see in front of you right now. An ugly forty-year-old man whom everyone considers dead."

"No," I answered firmly, "that's not true. Now you're intentionally trying to get under my skin so that you would be able to manage the situation and, if need be, throw me out the door at any time. But the real Professor Snape worked with me in the laboratory, defended me at the conference, and dined with me at the restaurant. You couldn't be acting back then!"

"And yet I was. Imagine that you, for one reason or another, are hiding under the Polyjuice Potion. You come somewhere where you don't expect to meet a single person you know. And suddenly, in the sea of new faces, you see the face of a person who wouldn't hesitate to recognize _you_ in you if you start to behave as you usually do. So what would you decide to do in this case?"

I remained silent.

"Precisely," the professor answered for me, "you would have begun to behave in a manner completely foreign to your nature. If you are kind and shy, you would begin to act like a scoundrel or a pleasure-seeker. If sarcasm is your first language and introversion is your only character trait that cannot be called negative, then you should become the embodiment of politeness and charm. Which is what I tried to do, and, apparently, not unsuccessfully."

I hugged myself, looking somewhere into the distance. It was too hard to accept the truth. During the Christmas holidays, I managed to get used to the idea that Professor Veans was someone else but I just couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that he turned out to be Professor Snape, and most importantly, that Professor Snape was actually alive.

"Okay," I said in a surprisingly even voice, "I understand why you tried to be nice – although you did it, I must say, with varying degrees of success – but why did you try to make me like you?"

"I did nothing of the kind," the professor answered firmly.

"No, you did. How else to explain your behaviour? Firstly, if you were afraid that I would recognize you, why did you intentionally pay so much attention to me?"

Snape rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"And secondly?" he asked, but I wasn't going to let him distract me.

"Answer that first," I said demandingly.

"Well, there were two reasons. First, I was afraid that you would suspect something if I started to ignore you too blatantly."

"But that's ridiculous!" I exclaimed. "I'd never figured it out."

"I already mentioned that I had a better opinion about your intelligence at that moment."

"Stop insulting me, sir, or I'll have to answer in the same way," I said in discontent.

"I'm trembling with fear," Snape replied sardonically.

I folded my arms on my chest and we both fell silent. My curiosity, however, quickly overpowered my pride, and I asked:

"Okay, and the second reason?"

"The second was curiosity."

"Curiosity?"

"That's right. I was curious about who you've become five years later. It's a considerable amount of time, and I was wondering what happened to the Hogwarts Golden Trio after school, if _you_ remained to be the same know-it-all with a constantly annoyingly raised hand and the ability to quote textbooks."

"And what are your findings, sir?" I asked, really wanting to hear the answer.

Snape looked at me, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"You're less self-confident now – you obviously realized that a good memory isn't all that a woman needs to be happy."

I pursed my lips. These words offended me – it's always especially painful to hear the hurtful truth about yourself – and I felt an unpleasant lump in my throat.

"Our conversation raises more questions than gives answers," I said, trying to change the subject and deal with my emotions in the meanwhile.

"All I've been doing for the last several minutes was answering all of your questions, ungrateful creature. It won't happen again, so do both of us a favour and try to collect your thoughts and ask everything that you wish to know."

"Fine... I... well, then explain what our last conversation in the library meant? What were you getting at?"

Professor Snape's face was unreadable, but the long pause that followed made me realize that this was the question he didn't actually want to give an answer to.

"You shouldn't go to another university. You need to stay here."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

"Why? And why it's only now that you're saying this? When we were in the restaurant, and I asked for your advice, you weren't trying to convince me that it was a bad idea."

"Professor Veans doesn't pressure his students and allows them to make their own choices."

"And Professor Snape?"

"Professor Snape does pressure."

I pursed my lips, my gaze wandered around the room, as if trying to find a clue how to find common ground with the owner of the house.

"Why do you think I shouldn't go?" I asked finally.

"That's a stupid idea."

"Professor Rostov doesn't think so."

"Then he's stupid, too."

I gritted my teeth.

"He isn't... Okay... Fine, let's change the subject," I muttered, seeing that my interlocutor had no intention of continuing a constructive conversation in the direction given. "What about... what about our project? Why did you tell me about the Dysfolid and that you have prolonged the effect of the Polyjuice Potion? After all, this could make me suspect something was amiss."

"I needed an assistant. I couldn't devote enough time to the research on the modified potion, and I needed someone who would do most of the work for me. There's no way I would find a better candidate for that role than you. And after your brief but passionate speech in the archive in my defence, I was convinced that I've made a right choice because I saw that even if you realized that I'm not only researching the Polyjuice Potion but using it too, you wouldn't be a threat to me."

"I see. And what do you intend to do now?" I asked.

"Nothing special," Snape replied, "I'm sure you won't tell anyone about me, so I'll just continue teaching."

"Mm..." I said. "Only now you won't have to pretend that you like me," I said with a tight smile.

"That alone was worth telling you the truth," the professor agreed.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door. Snape and I both looked in the direction of the hallway, and then the professor silently got up and left the room. A minute later he returned but in the guise of Professor Veans already. I didn't ask who was at the door and the professor didn't indulge me on that.

"Well, Miss Granger, do you have any other questions?" he asked.

I silently looked at the teacher, not having the strength to say anything. It was so strange to see Veans instead of Snape. It was as if a minute ago I was talking with a school teacher, and now my professor was back, young and handsome, the one I even liked... But it was still Snape!

I pressed a cold palm to my forehead and closed my eyes.

"It's unsettling, isn't it?" I heard Professor Veans's voice. "You see a beautiful picture, but you know that it's ugliness underneath."

I opened my eyes.

"No, I don't think..."

"Don't argue. All these tales about 'appearance doesn't matter' and 'for a man, it's enough to be just a little more handsome than an ape' are complete rubbish. You were ready to fall in love with your professor Veans, but now that you know who he really is..."

"I wasn't ready to fall in love!" I exclaimed, and then added in the calmer tone, "and I didn't know that you cared so much about the looks."

"I don't care about it, not in the slightest; it's you who cares."

"And since when do you care what I care about?"

We both stared into each other's eyes with a degree of irritation, realizing that this confrontation wouldn't lead anywhere. Finally, the professor said:

"I think I answered all of your questions. You're dismissed, Miss Granger."

I nodded and got to my feet.

"Thank you for your time, sir," I said in a perfectly polite tone. "I promise you that not a single person will know from me about you unless you give me permission yourself."

The professor nodded silently.

"Goodbye, Miss Granger," he said, showing me to the door.

"Goodbye, Professor Veans," I echoed and left.

On the way to the dorms, I tried to make sense of everything that had happened. Having replayed our entire conversation several times in my mind's eye, I came to the conclusion that I did everything wrong. I should have talked differently, asked other questions... The situation seemed to have cleared up, but I had the impression that I still didn't know anything. As if the professor had lifted the veil of mystery without showing me the most important part. It left an unpleasant, heavy feeling in my soul. Uncertainty of the future was depressing; the fact that I was fooled for six months upset me; and the knowledge that Professor Veans – such wonderful Professor Veans! – turned out to be Professor Snape – was confusing. Even the only bright moment in this story, the news that Professor Snape was alive, was overshadowed by the fact that this person, who deserved to finally be happy, was forced to hide and drink Polyjuice Potion.

And I didn't even ask who the man from Germany was, the one whose hair Snape used! This overwhelming news really threw me off balance.

The closer I was to the dormitories, the more miserable I felt. Stepping over the threshold of mine and Claudia's room, I was in anguish over my heavy burden as a woman and my failed love life. There were no tears yet, but I felt that they were drawing near.

Having changed into a shapeless flannel shirt and loose pants, I took a bucket of caramel ice cream from Claudia's secret cabinet and fell on the bed. Then I glanced at Claudia's writing desk: there stood Marina, a magical music shell. With the wave of my wand, minor chords of the lyrical song 'But you mounted a broom and shouted 'goodbye!' sounded from the shell and I gave free rein to the tears. Eating ice cream, I listened to sad songs one after another, and cried, wallowing in self-pity.

After some time, Claudia entered the room. I was upset about it at first because I was yearning for a bit of solitude, but having looked at my friend, I seemed to see my own reflection – her hair was dishevelled, eyes swollen, the nose was red, and on her cheeks were the wet paths of the running mascara.

Having glanced at me, Claudia approached me without saying a word, sat down on the bed with her legs tucked under her and conjured a spoon.

I rocked my head at her as if asking what had happened. Trying to scoop up with her spoon as much of the ice cream as possible, she replied:

"I'm fat."

I gave out a nervous chuckle.

"I'm not in the mood to argue on the subject, especially now and with you of all people," my friend warned.

I knew why – Claudia wasn't fat but she always was quite curvy, while I never was so full-breasted nor had such rounded hips. And usually, my dear friend was quite happy with her figure, except for moments like these. Typically, the cause of these little meltdowns were her quarrels with Jason. He would say something stupid, of course, not really meaning anything of the sort, and Claudia would burst into hot tears and begin to praise my 'thinness'.

"What about you?" she asked, reaching out again with her spoon for the bucket of ice cream.

"And in my flat, I'm all alo-o-ne," I sang instead of an answer, joining the female voice emanating from the shell, "The Floo is cold and there's no o-o-owl, it's already past ten to ei-i-ight, you must forgot about Ka-a-ate..."

──────── • ✤ • ────────

18th of January, Tuesday:

On Tuesday, I had no lectures on my schedule, and I decided to go to the library from the very morning. Despite all the 'unclarities', as Claudia called it, in my personal life, it was necessary to continue studying. All the more so as reading the latest research and ancient manuscripts helped to distract me from unnecessary thoughts better than anything else.

And that time I got especially lucky – one of the books on my list, that I had prepared myself according to the catalogues, turned out to be written in a light and lively language, and I forgot about everything in the world while reading it.

Claudia once said that if I'd ever decided to write a book, I should do everything possible to make it valuable not only from a scientific but also from a literary point of view, since usually scientific works were boring to read because of their dullness and dryness. Back then I've told her that the purpose and point of these works was in passing important information, and not in a beautiful turn of phrase, but now I saw for myself how much more fun it was to read a potion book written in a 'light style'.

As I was turning over yet another page, I raised my eyes for a moment, and only after lowering them, I realized what exactly I'd seen. Professor Veans-Snape was sitting right across from me, with only three tables separating us. Having decided to pretend that I didn't notice him, I stared at the pages, but now I didn't actually see either the letters or the book itself. My mind was completely focused on the professor. While turning the page once again, even though I didn't read even the first paragraph of the opening, I one more time peeked over the top of a large volume. The professor was absorbed in his reading, and didn't pay any attention to me. I decided to take advantage of that and watch him for a while, but as soon as I thought about it, he looked up and his gaze fixed on me. I lowered my eyes with a start, feeling that my heart was beating somewhere in my throat. Then I scolded myself for such a reaction. I intended to behave 'as if nothing had happened', while my actual behaviour contradicted that plan whatsoever. I looked at the professor again, this time boldly, without hiding – I decided to say hello to him, just as I would if I didn't know about his little secret. But he was again looking at his book. So I also returned to my reading.

But not for long. Soon my eyes were drawn to the professor again. Probably feeling that I was watching him, he glanced up from his book immediately and looked at me. It took me some time to notice that since I was lost in thought, but as soon as the signal reached my mind, and I set out to nod in greeting, the professor once again buried himself in the book lying before him. The convulsive nod I managed remained unnoticed by him. I rolled my eyes, sighing in displeasure. Only I could sit for ten minutes constantly making eye contact with a person, and greet him when he wasn't watching me!

After this little fiasco, I decided to focus on reading after all. Especially as I already lost the main point of the author's insights and had to turn the page back. After two or three minutes, I glanced briefly at the professor and noticed how he lowered his eyes. I also had looked down, but after a second I raised them again and decided not to lower them until I finally said hello to him. I was sure after that we would both calm down and be able to work. However, now the person opposite me seemed to deliberately keep himself in the book – having put an expression of utter interest on his face, he looked like he read the same passage several times, then thoughtfully rubbed his chin, moved his index finger across his lower lip, looked somewhere at the ceiling, as if trying to remember something and again buried himself in the book. All of that he did without a single glance in my direction.

I narrowed my eyes angrily.

Slightly pushing the book away from me, I pulled a parchment and a quill out of my bag. The inkwell on the table was full of ink, and I settled on eagerly writing down some sentences or even whole paragraphs. Mindlessly copying the passages from the book, I managed to distance myself a little from the outside world.

Finally, it was lunchtime. As I started to rise from the table, I noticed that the professor began to get up at the very same moment. Obviously, that didn't escape his attention too, so he pretended that he simply wanted to readjust his chair and sit with more comfort. I pursed my lips and, having put all my things back in my bag, headed for the exit. Passing by the professor, I stopped at his desk and with a fake smile on my lips uttered in the most polite tone:

"Professor Veans."

The professor quickly rose from his chair. He nodded briefly and said 'Miss Granger' in greeting, and, having waited until I left, sat back down on his chair – I looked back just in time to see that, and also how he tiredly rubbed his face with his hands.

Claudia was already waiting for me in the Dining Hall.

"How is the library?" she asked. "Still there?"

"Yes. It's still there and says that it missed you," I replied.

"Bullocks, I was there just... just... some time ago! But today, Jason and I were in the city, and I saw a super-duper cool dress out there. It's satin, of colour similar to that one of your shirt, only a little pinker, with some straps here and here, and they go back somewhat, like this and then here..."

"Claudia, I don't understand your explanation," I interrupted my friend, out of the corner of my eye noting that Professor Snape had entered the Dining Hall.

"I better draw it then. Do you have a parchment?"

"Is it so urgent?"

"Yes, yes, just give it before I forget."

With a sigh, I pulled from my bag the very same parchment that I used in the library and handed it to Claudia. She had begun to draw a sketch on it with her wand when she suddenly froze.

"What is this nonsense?" she asked.

I glanced in her direction.

"I copied some... points from a book. It's for my diploma paper."

"Oh my Merlin and all his descendants! What the hell were you reading? How do you even understand this gibberish?"

I looked at my own sheet. After running my eyes through the paragraphs, I had to agree that such incoherent text was second to none. Moreover, in some places there were obvious slips of the quill – somewhere the same line was repeated twice, and somewhere the wrong words were written, which Claudia immediately hurried to inform me of.

"What does it mean, 'in such conditions, you need to remember not only that say hello affects the potion as a catalyst...'?" she asked.

I snorted.

"I'll tell you later."

──────── • ✤ • ────────

"You see, there is one person..."

"A guy?"

"Mm, yeah, kinda."

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, fine, a guy. I kind of... that is, now I realize that... I didn't know before, and now, when something happened, I realized that I liked him."

"Lik _ed_?" Claudia pointed out.

We walked around the university – after lunch, I decided not to go to the library, and Claudia was eager to hear my mysterious story. The grounds were quite deserted, since most of the students were at the lectures, and only five-year students, professors, and other university employees were seen.

"You see, I had learned something about him, and it changed everything drastically," I continued my complex story, trying not to reveal the truth, but convey the essence.

"Is he gay?"

"What? No! It's just... he's not exactly who he claims to be. And now that I know who he really is, I can't... I can't like him."

"Is he actually a woman?" my friend asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Thank Merlin, no."

"Is he a criminal?"

"Not to me."

"Hermione, just tell me who he is! Or I'll die of curiosity!"

I shook my head.

"Sorry, I can't. I promised that I won't tell anyone. I'm already partially breaking the promise as it is."

Actually, even without the promise, I wasn't sure that Claudia would be able to keep her mouth shut, but she didn't need to know about that.

"Okay then, you evil thing. Go on."

"As I said, I can't like him, although when I see him... I get such a feeling... like I'm a fish out of the water, but it's not quite unpleasant. But I have to always keep in mind who he really is. And I don't know... it's so terrible, you think you know a person, you're ready to fall in love with him, and then suddenly you realize that he's someone completely different. And then you just don't know what to do with your affections."

"I think I can relate. One of my ex-boyfriends had been pretending to be such a tough beefcake, and then it turned out that all of that was just a glamour! And it dissipated at the worst possible moment, if you know what I mean... I didn't know whether to cry or laugh."

"Well, then you understand me," I stated with a grin.

──────── • ✤ • ────────

19th of January, Tuesday:

The next evening, I was expected at a soiree – Professor Olivier, who taught us Muggle Studies, was throwing a dinner party to celebrate his sixtieth anniversary. Apart from his colleagues, he invited several students, myself included. I didn't like the idea that the reason for that was my blood status, but it turned out that most of the invited were Muggle-borns or half-bloods.

It didn't take me long to decide who to offer to come with me as my date — the choice fell on Emile, because I knew that he wouldn't refuse, that I wouldn't feel awkward with him, that he wasn't going out with my friend and that he wasn't my school teacher who was drinking Polyjuice Potion.

Having borrowed one of Claudia's dresses of the calmest colour she had – the red wine colour, I put my hair up into an evening hairstyle and allowed Claudia to work her magic on my nails.

"This dress fits you better than me," my friend whined while trying to find a colour for the manicure to match the one of the dress.

"You don't wear it anyway."

"That's exactly why I don't wear it. At least now I definitely won't after seeing how it fits you. But, you know what, you need some accessory. Do you have any gold pendant on a short chain?"

"I do, I do, just finish already, please, Emile is probably already waiting for me."

"Oh, poor guy. When he sees you, he'll want to hang himself."

"Claudia!"

"What? You're not going to return his feelings, and to see such a beauty, knowing that you'll never get it... It's hard. Probably. I've never experienced that personally."

I rolled my eyes. Claudia was hopeless.

Finally, the preparations were over, and I went down to the dorms' courtyard, where Emile was already waiting for me. He looked very nice in a satin black robe, from under which a white shirt and a bow tie peeked. He smiled a little shyly and made a compliment about my dress.

"Will any of your friends be there?" Emile asked as we walked to the Professors' campus.

"Probably. There will be many guests," I answered indifferently.

"What about Jason? Or Dick?"

"No, they won't be there. But don't worry, you'll definitely find someone you know. And I'll be with you all the time."

"Yes, sure. By the way, about that project with Merlin's College..."

And we passed on talking about the project. Emile was also going to participate in it, and he informed me of some points that I didn't know about. For example, it turned out that we would work in groups, and I would most likely end up in a group with Julius Glauber, some girl from Merlin's College and Kenneth, the very same one who had been hitting on me once with such zeal.

"Not the best news," I noted.

The house where the celebration was taking place was visible from afar. Firstly, dressed up couples were coming from all directions to it, secondly, a bright light was shining through all its windows, and the music was heard far beyond. Professor Olivier lived in a large beautiful cottage on the outskirts of the Professors' campus. As far as I knew, his Muggle parents were very wealthy and left a great inheritance to their son. Perhaps that was precisely what allowed him to buy a six-bedroom if I'm not mistaken, separate house built of light brown brick and roofed with a tiling of dark chocolate colour. In the lower part of the house, symmetrically to the left and to the right of the entrance, a kind of two semi-circular apses protruded from the front wall. Through their large windows, one could see the guests inside the house, standing at tables filled with snacks or walking across the vast rooms, which, perhaps, would have better been called 'halls'.

Emile and I went inside, and almost immediately Professor Olivier approached us. He greeted us warmly, thanked us for coming, explained where to put our warm cloaks and showed where to leave our gift. After that, he immediately hopped over to the newly arrived guests, and we passed to one of the halls, where the tables with snacks stood. Certainly, some magic has been involved here – enormous spaces were hidden in a relatively small house. As I later heard from a conversation between one of the guests and Professor Olivier himself, the host used the help of the Napkin & Moritz company, which specialized in magical enlargement of spaces.

Emile and I made ourselves comfortable at one of the windows. I took a glass filled with punch from a tray flying past us and took a look at the guests. Most were familiar to me, but some faces were completely new. After a while, I saw Professor Snape-Veans enter the room. Of course, he didn't see me, but I had a great opportunity to carefully examine him. How handsome he was! A sophisticated elegance of a truly English nature only emphasized his charming appearance. It was hard to believe that was actually Professor Snape.

Only a few seconds later I noticed a girl walking next to him. At first, I thought that they just accidentally happened to be close to each other, but then I realized that she was his date. I felt the blood rush to my face, and everything inside seemed to tremble. But I was never able to classify the strange feeling that rose within me at the thought that the professor had come here not with me, but with some other student – I remembered her face from one of the inter-faculty events. It was a mixture of anger, hurt, a sense of injustice, embarrassment and plain nervous strain.

Finally, the man of the hour appeared in the hall and invited everyone to the dining room, where the tables were set out. After easily finding mine and Emile's setting cards, we took our places and within a second we learned who were our neighbours and potential interlocutors for the next couple of hours. It was Kenneth and his friend Miranda.

Kenneth beamed when he saw who he was going to sit next to. Miranda's manoeuvre, which she tried to make to take a chair between me and Kenneth, was unsuccessful, and to my regret, I realized that now I'll have to endure this annoying young man, even despite him having a date.

Mrs. Olivier's voice sounded – she suggested raising glasses to her husband, and all the guests, after saying 'To Nicolas', took a sip from their glasses. Soft music began to play, and everyone got down to the food.

"Do you know that we'll work together on the Flamel's and Merlin's College project?" Kenneth asked me, trying to look into my eyes.

At the time, I was poring over the roast beef lying on my plate, trying to decide if I wanted to eat it, so Kenneth's attempt failed.

"Yes, Emile has already brought me that joyful news," I said.

"And you know, we'll have to find a meeting place," he said in a seductive, as Kenneth obviously thought it be, voice. "I'm ready to offer my dorm room. My neighbour is rarely there, and _no one_ will disturb us."

I tore my gaze away from the roast beef and looked at him coldly.

"That's very nice of you. If Julius and the girl from your college find this acceptable, we'll definitely take advantage of your hospitality."

Kenneth frowned, and then was distracted by Miranda. But after a couple of minutes, he turned back to me.

"You know, I often thought of you. You haven't appeared at Quidditch matches for a long time, and I didn't know how else to see you, but if only we could meet more often..."

"Yes, Hermione, we really haven't gone to Quidditch for a long time," Emile suddenly chimed in, which caused Kenneth to snort discontentedly, "maybe we'll come this Saturday?"

I shrugged.

"Emile, if you like going there, you can do it without me," I replied.

Emile winced a little and answered with a strong French accent, which appeared only when he was nervous:

"I don't think that will be appropriate. I go there as your friend. Alone, I'll be out of place. I think so. Please let's go there together this Saturday."

And again, that puppy-eyed look, almost shiny with tears. I sighed.

"Fine, let's go."

"Cool!" Kenneth exclaimed. "I'll be there too."

My shoulders fell helplessly, I glanced at Emile with displeasure, and he gave me an apologetic look.

"Although, I'll be on the field with the team, and we'll be able to talk only after the match. You'll have to wait for a while..." Kenneth put his palm on mine in a supposedly soothing gesture.

I clenched my teeth and shot the young man a murderous look. Since that didn't work, I picked up his hand with my thumb and index finger and removed it pointedly.

With a miserable face, I looked off to the side, as if seeking release from the company I found myself in. And at that moment my eyes met with the ones of Professor Snape. He sat one table over from us, but he could see me perfectly, as I did him too. Before I had decided what to do, I saw him nodding in greeting with a malicious smile. At first, I had pursed my lips, disgruntled with his grin, but then made a fake smile and also nodded. The smile quickly disappeared from my lips, confirming its falsehood. Here the professor got distracted by his companion, and I turned to Emile. I began to talk with him about additional classes that he went to, hoping that Kenneth wouldn't be interested in this topic and wouldn't intervene. As if! He had a ton of stupid comments on every Emile's word and a hundred idiotic compliments on every mine.

After what seemed like a century, the dances began. I decided not to wait until shy Emile invited me, and asked him out myself. He timidly tried to refuse, but I made such a face that he didn't dare to continue his skittish declining.

We went to the centre of the floor that had been cleared out for dancing, the music began to play, and all the couples started to swirl. It was a little awkward for me to dance with Emile because they were definitely taught differently in France than we were at Hogwarts. He was making some movements and turns not in the way I expected him to, and we were falling out of step. If Emile had been a more confident partner, he would have led me, and everything would have been fine, but the complete lack of nerve in this young man had a significant impact on his ability to lead a partner. But I didn't complain, because an alternative to Emile was Kenneth, whose masculine conceit went beyond all the boundaries one could think of. And he intended to invite me, that I was sure of. I could see very well how he watched me while dancing with Miranda not far off from us.

The first dance ended, and I, grabbing Emile's hand, hurriedly went off to the side. Yet still, Kenneth blocked our path.

"Hermione, would you give me an honour?" he asked, holding out his hand and looking at me with languid eyes.

I almost shook with disgust.

"I'm sorry, but Emile wanted to talk with me about something, and we were heading to the garden."

"Emile can wait," Kenneth stated.

"I don't think so," I said through my teeth.

Kenneth's gaze shifted to Emile.

"Will you hold on for five minutes?" he asked.

I squeezed the sweating palm tightly, and Emile squealed:

"No."

Kenneth's upper lip twitched slightly, a menacing expression appeared on his face. Before Emile had a chance to change his mind, I dragged him along, pushing Kenneth aside on the move.

We crossed the hall and escaped to the garden. There, on a small court paved with cobblestones, were several people who went outside to get some fresh air. The grounds were lit by lanterns flying in the air, and the music was perfectly audible. I decided to get away a little bit from all of this and followed a dark path deep into the garden. Emile trailed behind me.

Suddenly, from a narrow corridor formed by trimmed bushes, we went out to a small cosy lawn with a fountain in the centre and two benches next to it. I finally released the hand of my companion and silently sat on one of the benches. Emile stood next to me.

"Don't you want to sit down?" I asked.

"No thanks, I'm not tired."

I sighed.

"But you do look tired."

Emile shook his head.

"Then, miserable."

His gaze met mine. There was an inexpressible longing in those black eyes and something like sympathy stirred within my soul.

"Come on, sit down," I said, patting the bench by my side.

He hesitated for a few moments, but then sat down.

"Look... I'm not a very open person myself, but still, I know that sometimes it's better to speak your mind than keep everything to yourself. Tell me what's bothering you. I don't promise to alleviate your sorrow, but it will still help. Spill it out."

Emile bit his lip hesitatingly. Taking a deep breath, he looked off to the side and said:

"I love someone."

I nodded.

"But I know that person doesn't love me and never will."

He spoke in such a sad voice, the soft French accent made the words sound like a lyrical song in a minor key.

"It's... it's always hard. I understand you. But you need to try... to make yourself stop loving. Do you get me? Tell... tell yourself you don't love them. Try to see this person less often, stay away and someday it will pass. It's like a disease that cannot be cured, but you can recover from."

Emile pressed his lips nervously. He looked at me and said:

"I can't stay away. I'm dying if I don't see those eyes for a long time, if I don't hear that voice."

I sighed emotionally. Now it became clear to me that it was a bad idea to start this conversation – it was too hard.

"Emile, you're a remarkable young man. You're very attractive, cute, wonderful..."

"But not like him," he said suddenly, gazing as though past me.

I looked at him in surprise.

"'Him'? Who 'him'?"

"Richard... Dick," Emile explained, once again looking directly at me, almost defiantly.

"Dick?" I smiled. "Dick is a good friend of mine, but if it'll make you feel better, I don't like him anymore. I mean, I no longer love him. My heart is free."

Emile's eyebrows shot up questioningly.

"Excuse me?" he asked in confusion.

I looked at him, puzzled.

"Well... you said 'Dick'. You compared yourself to Dick, and I... I wanted to say that I can't return your feelings, but the thought that..."

Emile had such a look on his face that I didn't dare to continue the sentence. He seemed guilty and stunned at the same time. It was as if I had just confessed my love to him, but he didn't know how to soften the refusal.

"I don't... mon Dieu!" he exclaimed and pressed his hands to his face. "You thought... _all this time_ you thought I was in love with you?"

For a moment, everything froze within me. I still didn't understand what all this meant, but the realization that I made a complete fool out of myself was already present.

"Nooo," I drawled, "I... I... well... okay, yes, I thought so. But…"

"I didn't compare myself to Richard, because I'm not worthy of such a comparison!" Emile said a bit pompously, looking into space.

"Oh my God," I whispered, realization slowly dawning on me, "you mean to say that you're in love with Dick?"

Emile lowered his head and nodded.

"You... you must understand me," he muttered, "because you too... you liked him too. You know how handsome he is, how elegant, how sophisticated, how smart. He's perfect! When I see him walking with his light steps, always with his head held high, my heart sinks. And how he holds himself on a broomstick! Oh heaven, his smile makes me want to cry, it's so magical, so indescribably beautiful. My heart aches when I see how he smiles. But he'll never love me back," he finished bitterly.

I was still breathing heavily, not quite recovered, and I started when he continued with unexpected anger:

"I'm ready to kill all those girls who he looks at with lust in his eyes!"

At first, I was confused, but then I decided to reduce the tension:

"Well, then I'm certainly on a safe ground because I don't interest him as a girl."

Emile looked at me with some sympathy. Then his expression changed – he again seemed guilty.

"Truth be told... when I found out that it didn't work out for you two, I was happy. And not only because I was jealous," he added hastily, "but also because I really like you. I mean, I have almost no friends here, and this year you and I seemed to have become closer. Although, you thought I was in love with you..."

"I didn't always think so!" I interrupted him. "Only the last... the last couple of days."

"Oh really? That's good. I was getting worried. So, it would be hard for me to be friends with you and see how you go out with Richard. But I still would have been grateful to you, cause if not for you, I wouldn't have been able to spend so much time with him."

"Yes, of course," I said perplexedly, "you always went to the matches with me..."

Emile nodded vigorously.

"And I honestly was sure that you've already guessed everything. You're so smart. And I thought that it was impossible not to notice how I looked at him. It seemed to me that everyone around us had understood everything a long time ago... that would be terrible."

"No, no, I can assure you, no one suspects anything."

Emile smiled weakly.

"Could you... could you not tell anyone?"

"Oh, sure! My lips are sealed."

We sat on the bench silently for a while longer, each lost in their own thoughts. I felt stupid. Even the sense of relief that Emile wasn't in love with me was almost absent due to the feeling that I embarrassed myself. On the other hand, Emile had just told me that he loved a guy – that's him who must feel really awkward.

On the way back to the house, I asked Emile – as my true friend – to protect me from Kenneth. He agreed inertly, but the rescue came from where I didn't expect it to. When we entered the hall, I easily spotted Kenneth and saw how he rushed toward me like a hawk. The current dance was coming to an end, and I understood Kenneth's intentions. And suddenly, at the very last moment, when the young man was just a few steps away from me, Professor Snape appeared in front of me.

"Let me invite you to the next dance," he said.

My first reaction was a sigh of relief and a breathily 'yes'. But when I saw how the professor raised his light eyebrow mockingly, I got embarrassed. However, having noticed Kenneth out of the corner of my eye, I perked up again and boldly put my hand in the professor's one.

We went to the centre of the room, the professor stood straight, lifting his chin slightly and looking over my shoulder to the right. He put one hand on my waist, the other, that was holding mine, lifted slightly. The music began, and we seemed to fly around the hall. The sensations were now completely different, not the same as when I was dancing with Emile. The professor led confidently, as if he had studied dancing for many years, and I felt like a real professional, we moved so easily and so confidently.

And there was a feeling of warmth. With Emile, there was tension, discomfort, while Professor Veans – I mean, Snape – felt familiar and homelike. And even the awkward moment in the library was forgotten, everything was forgotten. There was only music, and dance, and the frantic beat of his heart.

During the whole dance, we hadn't said a word to each other, and then the music died down and applause sounded. The professor pulled back a little but continued to hold my hand, not allowing me to leave.

"Professor Pitch was looking for you, she wanted to talk about something," he said, and only after that released me.

As soon as he stepped aside, Kenneth hopped over to me.

"No, no, I can't. I need to find the dean urgently," I said hastily. "Professor Veans said she was looking for me."

Kenneth looked at the professor standing nearby. Snape nodded, looking at Kenneth with displeasure. The latter clenched his teeth but moved away from me. Snape, casting a fleeting glance at me and matter-of-factly thanking me for the dance, also left.

I found Professor Pitch without any difficulties – she was sitting at the same table as Professor Olivier. A chair next to her was empty, and the dean, who was in an unusually cheerful mood, invited me to sit with her. I thanked her and sat down.

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you, although it wasn't urgent at all," she answered my words that Professor Veans informed me of her desire to see me. "This concerns the project with Merlin's College."

I raised my eyebrows with interest.

"You won't take part in it," the dean said and took a sip from her glass.

For a few seconds I glared at her, but since there was no continuation, I asked:

"May I find out why, ma'am?"

"Perseus is against it."

"Professor Veans?" I exclaimed.

"Well, yes, it seems that's how you call him," Professor Pitch answered and giggled.

Apparently, some emotions showed on my face because the dean said:

"And don't look at me like that, child. My friend has an an-ni-ver-sa-ry."

I smiled slightly, and then again took on a serious look.

"Ma'am, did Professor Veans somehow explain his protest?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself, miss?"

I thought it would really be more productive. I thanked the dean and got up from the chair. With the look of a hunter searching for prey, I looked around the hall. The professor was spotted at the other end of the room talking with his companion. I clenched my fists and headed toward him. When I was halfway there, Kenneth stopped me.

"I don't have time for you now," I said angrily and went on.

But the young man hurried after me.

"You're so beautiful when you're angry," he said reverently.

"Then keep walking with me, and my beauty will drive you crazy," I said through clenched teeth.

"I'm already going crazy because of you."

I stopped abruptly.

"Go. To. Hell. If today I see your face one more time, I promise, I'll hex you."

Having said that, I quickly continued my passage. Finally, I was next to the professor and his date. Snape noticed my approach even before I walked up to them, but chose to pretend not to see me.

"Professor Veans," I said in an amiable tone, "could you please spare me a couple of minutes, I have a very important question for you."

Despite the courtesy of the request, irritation seeped through my voice, and the professor, giving his interlocutor an apologetic smile, answered me:

"My sixth sense tells me that this won't be a question, but a complaint."

"Oh, not at all. I'm sure that you'll explain something to me, and everything will fall into place."

"Can't this wait?"

"No, sir."

The professor looked somewhere over my head and agreed reluctantly.

"Let's go out into the garden, it's too noisy here," he suggested, and, apologizing to his date – and pissing me off even more – went to the exit from the hall. I hurried after him.

There were now even more people in the court near the house, and I revealed that I knew one place nearby where no one would bother us. We walked along the dark alley to that lawn with a fountain where Emile and I sat. I settled on the bench, and the professor stood next to me with arms folded on his chest.

"Would you sit down?" I asked since it was a bit awkward for me to look at him from the bottom up.

"Thank you, but no."

I sighed, trying to drive away the annoyance.

"Why won't I participate in the inter-faculty project?" I asked without preamble.

The professor had the answer at the ready.

"Because you need to devote more time to the diploma paper because _your_ paper is very important for your career in particular and for the university in the whole."

I looked at Snape with suspicion.

"So far I've never given reason to think that I can't cope with the responsibility assigned to me. I can perfectly do both."

"I don't think so."

I frowned angrily. Having got up from the bench, I approached the professor.

"I think there's another reason. You... you want, I don't know, show me that I depend on you or something like that? Are you afraid that I'll tell someone about you?"

Snape pierced me with his stare for a few seconds, then grunted.

"Believe me, I'm not afraid of you," he replied.

I pursed my lips. I was sure that his fear for my graduation paper wasn't the point.

"Tell me the truth, sir!" I demanded.

"I'm tired of getting tired of this phrase," the professor answered lazily and, having bypassed me, with the same laziness leaned his hip against the fountain.

"Sir," I said, turning to him.

"Miss Granger?"

I began to breathe deeply, trying to calm down. However, that didn't work out too well for me.

"You simply don't have any right to deprive me of the opportunity to participate in the project. I wanted it so much; I was anticipating it... from the third year I was thinking about how I would take part in this traditional event for fifth-year students. Only the best are chosen, and they chose me!"

"As well as Mr. Kent," Professor Snape said pointedly.

"Who?"

"Mr. Kent, a student from Merlin's College and a Quidditch player for the university team."

I looked at Snape in surprise.

"Do you mean Kenneth?"

"If that's the name of that young man who has been trying to invite you for a dance all evening, then yes. I mean Kenneth."

I was taken aback.

"You... you... you don't want me to take part in the project that I dreamed of for two years because Kenneth is participating in it?!"

"Precisely. And that's for your own good."

"For my own good?!" I exclaimed, by that time not quite in control of myself and my rage. "You're just jealous!"

Having said that, I immediately wished to melt into the ground. That desire intensified when Professor Snape laughed out loud.

"I didn't mean to say that, sir. I'm sorry," I muttered.

Snape stopped laughing.

"Miss Granger," he pushed himself away from the fountain and came up to me, "what I'll say now must remain strictly between us. You must promise me that you won't do anything about this and will just take note of it. I didn't want to tell you, being wary of your reaction, but now, perhaps, the time has come to tell you before your fantasies have gone too far."

I held my breath.

"Mr. Kenneth Kent – no matter how stupid his name sounds – is a danger to you. He's one of the Punishers who attacked you on the night of October 31st to November 1st."

"No," I whispered in shock.

"When I came to your aid, of all the attackers he was the only one who's face I managed to see and believe me, I'm absolutely sure that it was him. I reported this to the university management, but as it turned out, Mr. Kent is the nephew of our rector Newman."

A memory popped up in my head how Claudia had once mentioned that fact of his biography. But I still couldn't utter a word.

"Obviously, the management decided to hush up this issue," the professor continued, "Newman talked with me, reminding me that we all make mistakes and how dubious my resume looked when I came to sign up as a teacher."

"No wonder Kenneth annoys me so much," I said.

"A quite unpleasant individual indeed. I've already noticed his increased interest in you before, and today it has become especially clear to me that you should avoid him. That's why I told Professor Pitch that I insisted on your exclusion from the project."

"I can't believe that she had agreed so easily," I said with a bit of resentment.

"All that was needed was to choose the right moment," the professor answered smugly, "when I addressed her, she was ready to agree with any argument I could come up with."

I sighed in displeasure.

"A true Slytherin," I said.

"If you knew about all of my Slytherin affairs, you would've run from here without ever looking back."

"I already want to. This is an unlucky place for me. Today I twice made a fool out of myself here."

I shook my head in dismay. Honestly, it was too much for one evening.

"And those were only the times that you'd noticed," the professor echoed.

I wanted to get angry, but when I saw the smirk on his lips, I smiled.

"You've noticed a lot more, surely."

"That doesn't really matter. What does is that you need to do one more stupid thing to successfully end the evening. Three is the magic number that every self-respecting wizard should strive for," the professor replied and made me also want to somehow prick him.

With some effort, I remembered the brochure that I found in his living room. Smiling wickedly, I said:

"Hmm, professor, why are you making fun of me in such an unkind way? Doesn't your handbook recommend you to be kinder to the people?"

"My handbook?" Snape asked.

"Exactly. 'How to make friends'," I replied sarcastically.

The professor looked at me silently for a few seconds, and then laughed _again_. I got a bad feeling...

"Ah, yes, that stupid trashy book," he said, coughing, "I wasn't sure that you would notice it, but you acted in perfect accordance with the script."

"With the script?" I uttered miserably, feeling that I had finally reached the magic number three.

"Precisely. After our work in the laboratory, it began to seem to me... It started to concern me that you might misunderstand my intentions, and I decided to plant that nasty thing for you to find, hoping that you would decide that I was just trying to make friends with you. Not that I had high hopes for the lousy book, but it helped to confuse you a little."

"What makes you think that?" I asked defiantly.

"Miss Granger, you undoubtedly know that I'm a legilimens..." Snape said matter-of-factly.

I pursed my lips.

"You're just unbearable!" I said desperately.

The professor simply shrugged.

"I'm wondering, you're so openly telling me about your abilities," I said after a pause, hoping to somehow wound this terrible person, "but somebody could be eavesdropping on us right now."

"Not a chance. Before our conversation, I put a soundproof spell on this place."

I was on the verge of tears. So much humiliation in one evening! And with every word I said it only got worse.

"I think I should go. It's late already, I've had enough of this party," I stated.

"Are you going alone?" the professor asked.

"No, Emile will take me to the dorms," I answered, heading for the alley.

Snape was walking alongside.

"That queer boy can hardly protect you from any danger," he noted.

I looked at the heavens, begging for this sheer mockery of me to stop.

"Sir! How do you know that he's gay?"

"It's pretty obvious."

I only shook my head vexatiously.

When we got back to the house, I saw Terry McPherson in the paved court. After we had greeted each over, I said that I didn't know that he was attending.

"I had no intention to. I came to collect Gina. But she doesn't want to leave," he answered, "screw her..."

Professor Snape, who was standing next to me, asked:

"In that case, Mr. McPherson, you're coming back to the dormitories now?"

"Well, yes, sir. I have nothing to do here."

"Then will you be so kind as to accompany Miss Granger?"

"No problem, sir. Granger, let's go."

I looked at the professor with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was grateful for his concern, on the other, I knew that he simply shifted responsibility from himself on to Terry, and he was just going to go on having fun with his date.

"Thank you, sir," I replied wearily, "goodbye."

"Goodbye, Miss Granger. And don't forget about the consultation on Thursday," with that, Snape turned and hurried into the house.

Terry and I silently dragged ourselves to the dorms.

* * *

 **T/N:** Again, sorry for the delay and thank you for staying with this story. You're very welcome to leave a review, they really keep me going.


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